Thirty Pieces
by Lili Mundi
Summary: What seems to be a normal mission against a serial killer threatens not only to destroy Weiß from within, but soon shows that to save the world, they must work together with the enemy. AU, Yohji-centric, Yohji/Aya
1. Prologue

Thirty Pieces

By Lilimundi

Notes: There is strong sexual and violent content within, as well as AU elements. This story takes place during the second part of Kapitel and will go to the end of Kaptiel.

Prologue

She wasn't that attractive, if Yamaguchi Haijme was to be completely honest. The secretary was very simple looking, but she was _his _secretary. The one that had the information he needed about what the Takatori clan had been investigating. He was so close to the knowledge of the group that took out Takatori Reiji, and from there what he was ultimately looking for. But this secretary... She was very unused to being considered a sexual being, so she was beyond ripe for seduction. In many ways, it was too easy to convince her to stay after hours, to pull her into his lap, and to trace the nylons up under her modest skirt.

She was too eager. It was pathetic and disgusting to watch her throw herself at him. She let out a disgustingly breathy giggle as he stroked her plump ass, wiggling in a way she must have thought erotic. Her hair was much too short, her face much too lumpy, and her legs much too short to even be considered if he hadn't wanted that information. Idly, he thought about Reiko, and her long hair and legs. Too bad about the bullet between the eyes, but that was expected when she tried to betray her employer. Not even her meager telepathy could have helped her there.

Yamaguchi started to roll down the nylons, wanting to get this over as soon as possible, when the lights suddenly went dark. This in itself was depressingly too common, as the building they worked in was very old, and the electricity had a tendency to, as young American Paula put it, "shit itself" constantly. It should have been a sending from the gods, that Yamaguchi wouldn't have to look at her as he drove himself into her.

The girl (her name didn't matter. She didn't even had the slightest psychic talent) pushed away, starting to stand. "Haijme-kun," she whined, the pout more than obvious in her voice, "I don't like this. I don't like the dark."

He sat up, very thankful that she couldn't see the darkly annoyed look on his face. But it couldn't stay for very long as unfounded worry trickled into his mind. True, blackouts in various offices weren't rare occurrences, but something about the darkness pressed into him, warning him of a danger that lurked behind the cover of black. Without his conscious consent, his fingers slowly lost their warmth and the air surrounding his skin dropped several degrees as his core temperature spiked, readying itself to spit the heat into the combustible air. The girl reached out for him and he impatiently slapped her hand aside. There was most likely nothing out there, but he wanted to be ready in case. Nothing was going to take him by surprise like-

"Haijme-kun!" Oh right. Idiot girl.

"Stay here," he ground out, happy at the moment that she hadn't gotten to unzipping his pants. His shirt was spread across the desk, but that was to be expected. He reached for the gun hidden in the room, wishing for enough light to check and see if it was loaded. It likely was, but that didn't change his training. He opened the door to let in weak light, seeing that only the nearby offices and hallway had lost power. Slowly, Yamaguchi eased his way out of the room, eyes flashing back and forth to catch any threat. None were forthcoming and he relaxed, the hold on his power loosening and heat flowing back out. He returned to the dark, silent room.

"Hey." He reached out to shake the girl out of her terror. At a slight touch, she collapsed bonelessly onto the floor, hitting the tile with a sickening squish. Metallic blood assaulted his nose, but before he could do more than twitch, strong lithe arms surrounded him. A hand touched his bare stomach, almost sexual if it wasn't for the slick, sticky blood feeling on the fingertips.

"Yamaguchi," a smoky voice purred in his ear. "How nice to see you again."

He mentally cursed at the sound of the deadly Eszett agent, a woman he had never been able to see but had left each encounter with a greasy aroused feeling. She licked his ear, drawing a pattern across his skin with the secretary's blood. "I've been-"

"Working? I can see how hard." Her fingers slowly pressed against his skin, just on the right side of pain. "You see, I've been watching you. Good idea, seducing the secretary of the late Takatori Reiji. What, my dear Yamaguchi, did you learn from her?"

He swallowed, uncomfortable with the violent hint in her fingers and the light brush of full breasts behind him. "The girl-" Yamaguchi took a deep breath, trying to keep from shaking. "N-nothing about the hospital... but there's information about Wei-"

She cut him off with a sudden motion, her fingers plunging into the soft skin of his belly. "I don't care about that idiotic group. You had your orders. You knew who I was looking for. But what did you do instead?" She plunged her hand deeper, her free hand sliding down to grip his wilted erection. "You investigated about them. Each time, instead of looking for her, you have given me information about groups I care little about." Slowly, she started pulling something out of him that slithered against his skin as blood bubbled against his lips.

"A-abyssion..."

"I care not," she hissed, dropping a wet handful of intestine. "Abyssion is not who I am looking for, and neither are the others. They are only gnats. Adam's Brood." She hummed, idly pulling something else out from the gaping hole. Yamaguchi felt his hold on consciousness waning, then her lips on his cheek and a sudden rush of lust that forced his eyes open again. The lights suddenly flicked back on, showing Yukiko (why was it now that he remembered her name?) laying on the floor, a large portion of her chest having been scooped out. Next to her body was a lump of what could only be his intestines. His legs buckled, and wonders of wonder, the agent lowered him to the floor gently, finally allowing him to look at her face.

She was beautiful. Inhumanly so, with clear green eyes and hair the same color as a lily pad. Her skin was clear and perfect, and a cruel smile had graced her face. With her bloody fingers, she unzipped his pants, each brush of skin against skin causing nauseating lust to pound through him. "You are quite useless," she said calmly, yanking his pants down with barely restrained hunger. "If you had focused on finding the host, you could have... died in a far more enjoyable manner, Child."

"Lilin..."

She smiled, demonically desirable. "But as it is..." Again, her fingers ripped his skin, this time lower. "You are simply... another one of my kills." She stood, the flesh she had ripped off in her hand. With her free hand, she smoothly took the gun from his hand, aiming. "I would love to watch you bleed out, but I have something to do."

The sound of the gun covered the sound of one silver coin landing in his abdominal cavity, a coin with the lesser known markings of an ancient Roman denarius.


	2. Chapter 1

Thirty Pieces

By Lilimundi

Notes: There is strong sexual and violent content within, as well as AU elements. This story takes place during the second part of Kapitel and will go to the end of Kaptiel.

Chapter One

It was such a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the shop was busy, the girls were utterly gorgeous, and Tomoe Sakura was so cute and sweet that Yohji thought his teeth were about to rot out of his skull. All the hallmarks of a beautiful and wonderful day. Yep, nothing could ruin this, short of running into Manx right after smoking his last cigarette. Which was becoming a distinct possibility, given the lack of cigs in his pack. But he put all that out of his mind as he flirted with a tiny girl, perhaps around seventeen or eighteen, with hair bleached to the color of good honey and shockingly purple eyes. She had been looking at various flowers, from forget-me-nots to daffodils, and currently had her eyes on an arrangement primarily of heliotrope. Her head tilted slightly while looking at it. "It's a lovely arrangement."

Yohji couldn't resist. "The color pales next to your eyes."

Her lips quirked, amused. She hadn't once responded as a shrinking blushing virgin, which was encouraging of its own right. "And do you say the same to everyone with purple eyes?" She didn't quite look at Aya, but the insinuation made his own lips turn upwards. She lifted one eyebrow, a similar color to her hair which either said she dyed them too or the light color was somehow natural. "Or just to the attractive ones?" Again, her words seemed to point to the redheaded man.

"Only to beautiful women with such good taste." He snagged one heliotrope and held it next to her face. "This flower certainly compliments your beauty perfectly."

She laughed, shaking her head. "So the truth comes out! I'm actually getting this for someone, and I have... long since decided on the heliotrope. But good try." She smiled, an expression with too many teeth for her. "You don't need to try and snag my wallet and my groin in one go."

Yohji laughed as well, sliding the flower back where it belonged. "So I see. Well, Omi can ring you up. Yo, chibi!"

"Yes?" The young man looked up, and the girl pointed to the arrangement. "Ah, okay! Do you need that delivered?"

The girl nodded, wandering away from Yohji without a backwards glance. A lesser man would be upset about this, but Yohji was not this said lesser man. He was a gentleman, a man of great taste, a-

-paranoid man that just felt a dark shiver roll down his spine. Being an assassin meant that paranoia was something you ate for breakfast and drank at lunchtime, so Yohji's instincts crying out at him that something was wrong meant that something was about to go tits-up. He started to move towards the register, remembering that Omi hadn't quite recovered since the last mission. It hadn't been a bad break, but as the crutches sitting innocently beside his chair said, it was enough to hamper his movement. The crowd was thinning, as most of their loyal customers and fans were heading to school and work. Omi had just finished with the tiny girl and she was booking it out of the shop as if she felt it too.

And then Manx walked in.

Well, his instincts were never wrong. Just overdoing it this time. Manx's arms held a few business notebooks, when normally she'd enter with a portfolio with the current knowledge of their target. She was dressed attractively in a lovely blue shirt with black slacks, a black vest buttoned over her generous chest and a beret perched over her red curls. In fact, she looked downright casual, how she normally looked after a bad mission and she was catching up on how the team was recuperating. "Am I interrupting anything?"

Meaning, can the team close the shop while she interrogated them. Amazing how easy it was to decode the agent's causal question. "Nah," Yohji said with a shrug. "Yo, Aya, Ken. Boss lady."

The two Weiß members looked up from their work, a dark shadow passing over their normal facade. All three of them started towards Manx as Omi turned for his crutches when she waved a hand. "I only need to talk to two of you," she told them, giving a death glare to Omi as he continued to try and stand. "It's nothing we need to close the shop over."

That caused Yohji to pause. She never wanted to only talk to a few members of Weiß, unless... her eyes flit over to where they kept the books and he smothered a snicker. Very rarely, they actually had to go over the books with Kritiker, showing how far in the black they really were. The Koneko didn't ever turn a large profit, but taxes didn't stop for assassins by night, florists by day. He squeezed Omi's shoulder, subtly pushing him back into the seat. "Aya and I can take care of it," he assured the boy. "You and Ken take care of the lovely ladies."

Omi flashed him a grateful look as the bell tinkled once again and a tall fedora wearing adrogyne entered. The body was undeniably female, as Yohji happily noted, and while she was wearing very masculine clothing, she wore them well. She went to shopping as soon as she entered, barely turning to Omi and Ken's cheerful greeting. Yohji silently mourned the opportunity to speak with someone that attractive that stimulated both his overdeveloped heterosexual side and his insanely picky and currently sleeping gay side as he followed two redheads into the back room.

At least there wasn't a mission. His ribs still hurt from the last one.

---

Manx closed the book in front of her, satisfied. "I am always impressed how you're able to profit off this business," she told the men, looking at the two of them. "How is Bombay's leg coming along?"

"The cast should be off soon. He's been trying to keep it from atrophying too badly," Yohji told her as Aya put the book away. "Is there a mission?"

Her fingers drummed on the table, a brief look of frustration crossing the beautiful face. "There should be. You are keeping track of the Coin Killer?"

Both members of Weiß nodded. The news had been overrun by reports of a serial killer that seemed to pick targets randomly, but always left a silver coin laying in the wounds of the corpse. There had been four killings so far. It made Yohji squirm uncomfortably. "Is that our next target?" Aya asked, only his eyes giving away how much he was itching to get back into the field.

"Again, it should be. But this killer has had no trail. We've been unable to even match any fingerprints." Manx steepled her fingers in front of her, looking at them. "No forensic evidence has been found, and there's no link between victims. We're searching for other clues and possible connections, but so far, the only connection has been lack of weapons used and the coin."

"The last victim was shot," Aya pointed out, remembering what Omi had found out when he hacked into the police database. This rash of murders worried them all, and they had done as much research as they could for when they were finally officially given the mission. "And the woman had no coin."

"With his own gun. And we are assuming the man was the target, not the woman." Manx frowned, looking at them. "We're looking into possible... preternatural connections. But information from that community is slow and often unreliable. Who we've managed to contact are..." Manx winced, not quite wanting to say.

"Psychics and witches," Yohji supplied.

"As well as a few priests, both Catholic and Shinto. One had recommended an American wizard of all things, but we hadn't been able to get a hold of him. A Catholic priest seemed to be worried about the coins, but calmed once pictures were shown."

There were a few reasons a Catholic priest would be worried about silver coins, but it didn't seem it was the worst case scenario if he didn't continue to worry once seeing what the coins looked like. "The higher ups are laughing at you for playing with the phonies, aren't they?"

Manx gave the blond an unamused look. "Once we have an actual lead, we will pass the information on to Weiß," she said crisply, standing. "In the meantime, you will be given other missions. We will wait for you to recover, but we won't keep you on standby to solve this case."

"Understood." Aya didn't sound happy at this, however. Yohji couldn't blame him. The entire situation made him uneasy, and he wanted to get whoever was behind this and introduce hir neck to his wire.

"Hey, Manx? Omi needs to leave for school." Ken looked at the three, anxious. "Hey, is there a mission? You guys look..."

"No, there isn't," Manx told him. "I've finished my work here. How are you doing?"

Ken shrugged with one shoulder, trying to keep his battered shoulder still. He had come very close to breaking or dislocating something in that fall, but it was worth it when his target had been on the other end of his claws. "Healing. How about you?"

She smiled, walking past him. "Tired, but it's that time of year." She nodded to Omi as he came over to them, backpack already shouldered. "Take care, boys."

"Take care!" Omi chirped at her, his feelings for the closest thing he'd have in Weiß as a mother figure coming to the fore. "Oh, Yohji! Someone bought some flowers and left one for you." The slight disapproval wasn't masked, but it wasn't anything new. Women would buy flowers for the boys all the time, leaving them to have to tactfully discard of the items they had just sold. Omi nodded to the counter and the single white flower resting there.

A calla lily.

Something twisted inside his belly. Women had given him lilies before, but combined with the fact calla lilies weren't from the genus Lilium, the Coin Killer, and the dark feeling he had before Manx entered...

_Not like she's even in Japan,_ he reasoned as he picked up the flower, watching Aya gather up his keys to take the young boy to school. _Or if she was, she wouldn't come in here and leave me a flower after all these years._

Still, the calla lily rested in his hand, a lithe feminine shape with an amusing phallic pistil.


	3. Chapter 2

Thirty Pieces

By Lilimundi

Notes: There is strong sexual and violent content within, as well as AU elements. This story takes place during the second part of Kapitel and will go to the end of Kaptiel.

The "flea on crack" line came from my sister during a very amusing discussion about movement range in Soul Nomad and the World Eaters.

Chapter Two

"Where in the- Oh!" A girl in her early twenties had answered the door, long hair so light Yohji was wondering if it could be called white blonde or pure gray, and a fiercely annoyed look melting from her young looking face. She looked at the bouquet in front of her, blinking. "Sorry, I thought you were..." Her Japanese had a very distinct American accent, and he could see her struggling with her vocabulary. Though, he didn't doubt the scar against her temple didn't help with her language problem. "Um. Flowers?"

"Lauren, who is it?" came a male voice, causing her to turn just enough to keep one eye on Yohji as she looked to see who was coming. A small, warm look crossed her face and she looked back outside.

Yohji smiled winningly at her, his flirting response scaled back a bit as a Japanese man came up behind her, lightly stroking her shoulder. He watched Yohji with equal parts curiosity and wariness, a hand going down to setting on her waist. "Someone decided a lovely couple should have lovely flowers. Congratulations."

The couple shared a look, speaking quietly to each other in English. Slowly, he took the card out of the arrangement, reading the words that had been written a week ago, translating the Japanese to English then asking her a soft question. The girl looked upset as she spat something out at him, gesturing to her head. He frowned, then turned back to Yohji, taking the heliotrope arrangement. "Thank you," he told him, closing the door firmly in his face.

Well. Not a normal lover's spat. Yohji slid into his car, pulling out a cigarette as he did. He'd have to stop to get another pack before he got back to the shop, despite the fact that would cause him to be later than usual. Ken would just have to deal, he decided as he lit up, taking a deep hit of nicotine.

Something was certainly up, though. Not just with this interesting love triangle (and he would eat his sunglasses if those flowers were for the man), but overall. Some mathematician on the Kritiker team had set up this equation to see when the Coin Killer would hit next, and of course days after when zhe was supposed to attack, there still wasn't another dead body. Something about the entire thing didn't add up. If it was one of them...

Yohji shook his head, inhaling another lungful of smoke and tar. If it was, there would be signs to it. Manx still hadn't been able to get a hold of the contact in America, and the information in Japan was getting more and more tenuous as the minutes went by. He could tell that Kritiker wanted to put Weiß on the case, but when Manx took concern with a particular mission instead of Birman, they rarely got a case that consisted of "Go here and kill who or whatever's doing this, like we know what's going on."

It was incredibly frustrating. And tonight they had another mission. Omi wasn't taking a front line role this time, and the fact he was forced to remain at the Koneko, only able to tell what his teammates were doing by radar and radio transmissions, ate at the boy. Yohji wasn't about to admit it, but he was uneasy about not having Bombay on site with them. While his mission planning and execution was to the point he was the unofficial leader, he worked the best around the rest of Weiß. It was going to be tricky without being able to rely on Omi's firsthand experience with the site and his well timed darts.

Yohji coughed suddenly, looking down at his cig with a wary eye. Somehow, he had managed to smoke it quickly enough that he was inhaling filter smoke. With a practiced flick, the finished stick went flying out the window. It was about time to get back to the shop anyway. The afternoon crowd of fans would hit soon, and he couldn't disappoint them by being too late. Worrying about the killer and the mission would have to wait.

---

It was amazing how so many missions were forgettable. Yohji looked up at the body strung up on wires, trying to remember when, how, and came up with "guard in the way." Somehow, it didn't matter. One more dead guy, one more evil asshole dead, one more paycheck. His life since joining Weiß had become strangely predictable in some ways. With a chuckle, he turned around to leave.

A nasal chuckle slowed his turn, and he reached for his watch again. Damn. He hadn't expected them to show up here. Nothing about this target had to do with the fallen Takatori empire, nor any genetic or psychic manipulation. It had been pure drug trade, with the emphasis being on children. Yohji cast a look around, trying to see the obnoxious orange hair that came with the laughter.

"Saa. You're too paranoid for your own good," came the languid voice, Schwarz's telepath stepping out of the shadows. The bastard's lips were turned up in what would only be called a smile out of technicality. Yohji felt a light touch against his skin, soft and horribly intimate. "You want a job in Schwarz, little kitten? You're particularly good at taking out our targets before we do."

Without a word, without allowing himself to think about how _stupid_ of an idea it was or that he really couldn't _kill_ the idiot but he'd try his fucking best to knock him out, Yohji cast out his wire. He allowed for minimum thought about it, if only to ensure that it was aimed properly, but the telepath blurred out of the way before it hit. Of course, Yohji wondered if it was true super speed, or if the Schwarz asshole slowed down his thought process to make it seem like a simple slow step was faster than a flea on crack.

Fuck. A few years ago and he would have been able to take the entire team on his terms. Now, he was fighting to keep up rudimentary mental blocks and firing from the hip to keep a _telepath_ off guard and not really succeeding in either. One strand of wire came back at him, twisting around the wrist with the watch and a pipe, and the telepath came closer to him, smirking. "Aww, is the little kitten tired?" he mocked, slapping Yohji's face a little more firmly than "playful."

"Nah, just wondering why I should worry about a useless dick like you," he shot back, biting back a sound of pain as the telepath tightened the wire.

"Sure you're not projecting?" he purred, watching the blood flow down his arm with obvious glee. Then he winced, muttering in what was too guttural to be English. With one final baring of teeth, he let go of Yohji and blurred away, this time obviously messing with Yohji's perception of time to seem as if he was moving at superhuman speeds.

Damned Schwarz. He started to untangle himself from his own wire, hissing slightly as it cut into his skin. The wire had just slipped enough for him to get his hand free when he heard Abyssinian's voice, curt and tense, "Weiß, vacate! Schwarz has planted bombs."

Yohji took his previous statement and amended it as he ran for the door. It was amazing how many missions were forgettable and how many could be utterly _fucked_.

---

"So what's the mission, boss lady?"

She smiled, her fingers trailing along the wood of his desk. "In Japan, there's someone I'm looking for. Female. She would have been... out of commission for several years and yet her body would still be perfect. And she would have a link to Kritiker and Eszett."

His eyes sharpened at the German words. "What makes you think I have anything to do with Eszett?" he asked mildly, staying stock still as she leaned into his face.

"You're not the only one with supernatural skill at the computer," she purred, lightly stroking his hand. He felt himself harden at the touch of soft skin, licking his lips as she leaned in closer. "But... as it is, technomancer, you've been hiding your skills and your allegiance, haven't you? If you complete this..." Her hands lifted off of his, going to the buttons of her shirt. "I'll give you something only I can give you." The cloth slipped off her skin just enough to show she definitely wasn't wearing anything under. A deep inhale and strategic back thrust showed off the points of her nipples, hard and ready for him to touch. She smiled at him, her fingers dipping under the waistband of her pants. "I'll give you the best time of your life."

A little voice in the back of his mind shouted at that, at the tones under it. But the lust throbbing through his body was louder, and he nodded. "S-sure."

Her teeth were shown as buttoned her shirt back up, watching him. "Remember, look for her. I know Kritiker has some interesting groups, but they're not who I'm looking for." She handed him a business card, surreally professional. "Call this number when you find her."

"Yeah, sure." He was babbling, and he knew it. "Going to have to use my power, so trying to make sure they don't find out's going to be extra... money, I mean money! I uh... shit."

She laughed, pinching his cheek. "How cute you are. You will be paid handsomely, Ragdoll." She slid off the desk and left, her ass moving suggestively from behind a curtain of green hair. He watched it leave, then let out a long appreciative breath.

Much better than working on the stagnant Coin Killer case.


	4. Chapter 3

Thirty Pieces

By Lilimundi

Notes: There is strong sexual and violent content within, as well as AU elements. This story takes place during the second part of Kapitel and will go to the end of Kaptiel.

Chapter Three

There was a large pile of dirt in the middle of the floor. Aya looked at the smeared pile, a frown etching itself into his face. During the last rush, only minutes before closing, one of the teenage girls had bumped Ken's arm while he had an open bag of potting soil. The redhead had to snap out an angry warning to Ken, but not for the mess. Annoying as they were, messes could be cleaned.

It would have been harder if he was currently cleaning fangirl blood and bits off the walls. They were all wound tightly, especially with Schreiend suddenly showing back up, but Ken had this look in his eyes that claimed that he didn't even realize he was in the flower shop. Aya had looked at Omi quickly, seeing if the youngest member of Weiß had caught this flash of unstable mind, and saw his lips press together as if a piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. It was frightening just how intelligent that boy was.

He heard Ken put the last bag of soil away, the heavy thud somehow more ominous than it should be. Omi looked up from the till, in the middle of double counting the deposit to verify that the register was balanced. Aya caught his gaze for a brief moment before going to sweep, agreeing with the calculating look. Ken was slowly losing his self control, and it was only a matter of time before he became a danger to himself and others during a mission.

"Aya-kun," he heard Omi say softly, urgently, and he looked up. The boy nodded towards the storage room, then grabbed his crutches and the till. Aya understood, feeling sick. Ken could, would, and loved to smack around Aya, especially now, and for any reason. He had managed to keep it to training before, but as things became hairier with the Takatori empire and now with Aya's sister and Schreiend, he sometimes lashed out without thinking. Omi had bonded better with the athlete, and not even Aya would think about smacking around Omi. And somebody had to talk to Ken. After a moment, Aya nodded, sweeping the dirt out the door.

He focused on cleaning the shop, not wanting to think what was happening between the two youngest Weiß members. He'd normally believe that Ken wouldn't think about hitting Omi, despite the boy's irritatingly accurate perception, but given Ken's instability... Aya managed to keep from smashing a pot by the barest thread, and went over to the storage room to put away the broom. He knocked first, of course, not wanting to deal with a sudden attack if Ken was still in that state of mind.

Omi opened the door, tired and slightly discouraged. "Hey, Aya-kun."

Aya frowned, his heart seeing his little sister when she would stay up late and still not understand the homework in front of her. "Go sleep," he told him brusquely. "Store's done."

Ken came up behind Omi, looking just as tired and a little thoughtful. "It is? Great, thanks Aya." He smiled briefly, his face wholly young and naive as before. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

Aya grunted, putting the broom away. The store really wasn't done, not by any means, but he didn't want either boy to fall behind on sleep. From a mission viewpoint, that was a very bad idea. Assassins running on little sleep were bad enough, but when one relied on his quick thinking, tactical ability, and projectiles and the other needed to verify friend or foe before eviscerating the person in front of him with his claws, the idea was bumped from "bad" to "don't even think about it."

The store wasn't as bad as Aya had first thought. He finished twenty minutes after he had sent the other two to bed and ran a hand through his hair. Normally, he wouldn't shower at night unless there had been a mission. He hated the feeling of wet hair against the pillow, and preferred to shower early in the day. But his mind kept circling around his fellow assassins and the unsolved killings. Omi had done a little more research, and had come up with disturbing news. It looked like Japan wasn't the only place this dark beast had hit. There were reports from Kritiker agents in Germany, Austria, Romania, and China. He hadn't found more yet, as the information was still incomplete, but there had been at least twenty similar killings across Europe and Asia. There had to be a common thread.

Aya rolled his eyes as he finished locking up the store, already planning a nice hot and long shower. He needed to take his mind offline and sleep. He passed by the doors to the other men's apartments, mentally counting off what they would be doing. Yohji would still be out at a club, detoxing from his thoughts in his own way. It never seemed to involve alcohol or bringing strange women to the apartments instead of an anonymous hotel room, so it didn't matter to Aya. Ken would be flowing through his own katas. The claws required more than a little martial arts training, and Ken was strangely vigilant about keeping up with it. Omi would-

There were voices behind Omi's door. Soft, and the sound of a printer. Then he heard a soft thud and Ken's laughter. "Careful, don't want to knock that over!"

Aya frowned coming over to knock, then stopped to think. It was possible Omi was still talking about what happened in the flower shop, in which it would be the worst idea to come in and interrupt that. Ken's voice slowly came closer as the door opened. "I just need to get- Aya. Hey."

"Aya-kun!" Omi looked up from the bed, holding several sheets of paper. "Can't sleep either?" He had a large sheet of paper on it with what appeared to be random markings drawn onto it. Aya nodded as he slid past Ken, looking over what was there. It was obvious the athlete's work. He tended to doodle his thoughts, putting his ideas into abstract pictures. From far away, there seemed to almost be a pattern to the markings...

"What do you have?" he asked, holding out a hand. Omi responded with a brilliant smile, handing over what he was currently holding.

There still wasn't that much to go on. Manx's decision to attempt more supernatural contacts made a bit more sense, though. There were many strange cases attached to the victims, of things that reminded him of Schwarz and their uncanny abilities. Aya kept looking through the files, a small bit of queasiness seeping through his working mindset. As always, pictures were included, but something about these set him on edge. The women that had died usually had their chests mutilated, and in one gruesome case, all of her genitalia had been ripped off. The meaty ruin between her legs had him swallowing, trying not to show he wanted to vomit. The pattern of mutilation made him wonder, however, if they had been bitten off instead. In comparison, the two gaping wounds on her chest were neat and orderly.

But as Aya was putting the case aside, he stopped, thinking. Then he went back to one of the earlier victims, a male in Bremen, Germany. The killing here had been savage, animalistic, different. But... yes, there it was. His penis had been mutilated to the point it didn't even resemble the organ it was. Aya started going through other cases, seeing the thread of sexual violence emerge. Not all of them, but enough. Suddenly, a cold beer bottle was dangled in front of his face.

"Thanks, Ken," he muttered, grabbing the can and popping the tab. He wasn't going to be able to deal with much more of this completely sober. He would normally prefer tea, the familiar flavor calming his nerves while the caffeine gave him a jolt to stay alert, but he needed the mind numbing aspect of alcohol to continue looking at this level of sexual violence.

"What'd I do?" Ken asked, lifting his head. A beer was in his hand as well, and by how far he had to tilt his head to take another drink, he had almost finished it. Omi smiled tiredly, hobbling back to his place on the bed, where both an empty soda and beer can laid. Aya and Ken gave him a strange look as he opened another can, the same brand of beer they held, and took a small sip.

"I figured after seeing the link of sex, and the way this killer is mutilating the victims, we would need it," he told them firmly. "Aya-kun, Ken-kun... is it just me, or does it look like whoever is doing this is luring the victims in with a promise of sex?"

Aya blinked, looking down at the files. Most of the women had been wearing provocative attire, and the men tended to have their pants down even without the genital mutilation. He swore softly, not believing he didn't see it. "What does Kritiker say?" he asked, taking a long drink from his can.

Omi rifled through the files, pulling out a few papers. "They see it too. But there's no DNA left at the scene. Whoever is doing this is not having sex with them."

"Damn." Ken finished his can, crumpling it. "Where'd you get the beer, anyway?"

The boy coughed, nodding towards Yohji's room.

Aya snorted. Served the blond right. Ken reached out, snagging the beer from Omi's hands. "You've already had one, Omittchi," he teased, taking a swig. "You're not quite old enough, anyway."

"Neither are you," Aya reminded him, going back to his papers.

"Bite me," Ken mumbled. "Where _is_ Yohji, anyway?"

"Where do you think?"

Ken paused, then made a conceding gesture. "Don't know what the hell he thinks he's doing," he grumbled, going back to his own files. "Geez, this asshole is sick."

Aya raised his head to snap at him, then stopped, looking at what Ken was drawing. At first, he thought it was a web, spread to catch something... then he noticed how lopsided it was. Almost like it was something looking for something, finding a hint of something... "Ken. Have you noticed something about the victims?"

"Just what Omi did," he responded, yawning at the end. "Though, they all seemed to be looking for something."

Both Aya and Omi blinked. "Where'd you see that, Ken-kun?"

He pulled out a few papers, pointing. "Here. See? Starting in Romania. The victims' friends and coworkers had noticed they were doing extra work. One had even mentioned having a new client, but all that was found led to the next killing. Nothing about who or exactly what he was looking for."

The last seven killings. Aya and Omi both dived for the Japan killings, looking over the victims. Then there was a sharp inhale and a soft curse from Omi. "Aya-kun. Ken-kun. Kobayashi Yukiko. She had been leaking information to Yamaguchi Haijme for the last few years. She was... one of Takatori Reiji's secretaries."

Aya narrowed his eyes at the name. "So someone is looking into what Takatori had his dirty hands in," he growled out.

"It looks like it." Omi looked at the redhead nervously, grabbing the beer can back from Ken and taking a drink. Aya looked down at his own drink, wrestling his rage at the dead man back into its proper place. "It's a place to start."

"We're still not officially on the case," Ken reminded Omi, grabbing the can and finishing it.

"We have a lead," Omi countered.

"Except Ken's right," Aya cut in, gathering up all the empty cans. "We are not officially on this mission. Get some sleep. We'll need your expertise next mission."

They all grumbled, but agreed. Aya dumped all the cans away, looking over towards where Yohji resided. He would be back at any time, exhausted and smelling of sex, and crawl into bed to sleep until his shift at noon. Aya grunted, not wanting to think of this any further. As contemptible as his off work habits were, they didn't interfere with his focus during missions.

As long as he was back soon.


	5. Chapter 4

Thirty Pieces

By Lilimundi

Notes: There is strong sexual and violent content within, as well as AU elements. This story takes place during the second part of Kapitel and will go to the end of Kaptiel. And yes, the last sentence was me trying very hard not to quote Zero Punctuation.

Chapter Four

For Yohji, a club was either the best place to completely turn off his brain and wear himself down to the point he wouldn't dream, or the best place to kick his brain into a higher gear. Even with Asuka, he had been like this, using the chaos around him to separate what he felt from his thought process. It wasn't the safest thing in the world to do, but it was the only way for him to either think or fall asleep. Not to mention it often gave him something he craved...

He frowned, hips moving in time to the beat. As any club worth it's salt does, the music was loud enough not to be heard, but to be felt in his bones. He could be standing still and find his heart beating in time to the invasive bass line. The press of bodies around him felt wonderful, the hair color of the beautiful women around him shifting from red, yellow, purple, and blue in time with the colored lights. The men tended to shift around him, too afraid of their own sexuality to be truly attractive. And none of them really sparked any interest. They were... too average. Normal beautiful Japanese men. Nothing exotic to kick his sexuality switch a slight notch further to fucking his own gender. The last he had slept with was... it had to be before Asuka, the black Russian. Long before Asuka.

Asuka. How long had it been since he left that life behind? He had far too little time with the woman, and many days, he wondered if it had been worth it. _I could always go back to it,_ a traitorous part of him whispered. Yohji tried to ignore it, knowing it was only the last holdover from that past. _The knowledge of having whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and not when I needed it. After all, salvation isn't a static thing._

That was enough. And since when had his inner voice taken on a European accent? _Note to self, next time someone says anything about his name having low keys and lies, I am going to remind him of a certain war going on between his people. _Yohji took a deep breath of smoky, sweaty air and closed his eyes, focusing on the beat. Knowing he'd come back to himself if there was any danger (being an assassin was _fun_), he found the connection between his cognitive ability and his body, and shoved. With what should have been an audible snap, the thoughts were pushed away, leaving only stimulus and response.

His body eased into a smooth rhythm, similar to yet wholly different than sex. A body molded up against him, soft and female, long red hair cascading down her back, swaying as if it was a red tail. She rocked against him, the two dancing to the beat and against it. Another body slid against his back, erotic and fluid. He felt a long braid brush his ass as a strong hand gripped his hip, the three of them spiraling higher on the lust and music. He felt someone else brush against him, ghostly, and another person flowed through the crowd to physically touch him. The girl in front of him danced aside, fluid and calm, and another body pressed up against him. This one was harder, taller, without hint of femininity. Another ghostly hand brushed against his head, and he reached out to stroke the masculine hips. Haughty lips were curled in disgust, but didn't move away from it. Instead, he shifted the rhythm of his dance to the beat of a new song, easily switching to a similarly erotic movement. The lips parted in a laugh that was lost in the noise and leaned in, brushing against his lips as the unnatural touch on his head pressed in, almost painful. Long hair tangled in his hands as he kissed back, gripping orange strands between his fingers.

The presence at his back grew stronger as full breasts pressed into his back. There was a sensation as if the hands against his head had been grabbed, and there was a tsking noise against his ear. The person in front pulled back and gazed over his shoulder, anger flaring in those eyes. His ear became caught between teeth, and the one in front pushed away, flowing back into the crowd. There was a sharp, extremely painful yank on his ear, and Yohji blinked, his limbs suddenly shaking with exhaustion. The person behind him slid off, leaving him dancing alone in the crowd.

It was time to go home. He pushed his way out of the crowd, feeling like something happened he should have paid attention to. His lips felt bruised, like someone had been kissing him hard. His ear hurt, and he was surprised there wasn't any blood. Yohji shook his head and rubbed his eyes, emerging from the club. Definitely time to go home.

"You've let your hair grow."

The voice behind him was welcome and familiar, dark and seductive. Yohji paused, turning back towards the club. Against the wall was the adrogyne, still wearing men's clothing tailored to her richly curved body, and the fedora tilted over her eyes. At first, he thought that she had cut her hair, until he noticed the braid slither from her shoulder, the color the same as a lily pad. She tilted her head, regarding him with amused eyes. She was obviously waiting for him to respond, and he surmised she expected a surprised, choked sound. Unfortunately for her, he remembered her. And he was not about to do anything that would allow her to pounce.

A smile grew on her face as he inhaled, waiting for the weakness to be shown. "I should have known," he responded mildly, smirking slightly as her eyes narrowed a bit at his tone. "Calla lilies are Zantedeschia, not Lilium." He paused, and her eyes sparkled as they both heard the irony in that statement.

"So they are." She smiled, pushing off the wall to slink next to him. "You go by Kudoh Yohji now, mm? Is there a reason you're living with three beautiful boys, and they still can think for themselves?" She looked up at him, a pink tongue tracing her lips slowly.

"I have my reasons, Pad," Yohji told her, watching her back straighten at the name. "Is there a reason you're here in Japan?"

"Work." Pad lifted an eyebrow at the look on his face. "We both live among the Brood. You know as well as I do that working is actually required of us if we're going to stay here."

"And what about your dream to live with Mother?" he asked her, watching her eyes narrow at the childhood memory. She hadn't truly been their mother - they had in fact different mothers and fathers - but they had managed to trace their lines back to this one. Someone powerful. Someone Pad would have given anything to have lived with when she was young.

Pad stepped back, her lip rising in an unconscious snarl. "I grew up."

"And you're using the coins."

"And that is a surprise?" she asked him, her mild voice not able to hide the anger in her eyes. "And how in the world did you figure that one so soon?"

Yohji shrugged. "Media these days is a lot faster and smarter than we're used to, Pad. The murders have been on the news almost every day, especially since you still have no self restraint." He stroked her cheek, taking refuge in her skin. A spark of lust shivered between them, but he pushed it away. This hadn't been the first time she had tried that against him.

"And you do, _Kudoh_?" She frowned, watching him with furious eyes. Her hand came up to stroke his arm, nails erotically stroking his skin with a violent warning. "How many of these establishments have you been in over the years? How many Children have you fathered?" Pad stepped forward, voice dropping to a hiss as her grip tightened painfully on his arm. "How many of your seed have you slaughtered for your freedom?"

"None."

That caused her to pause, her hand dropping to her side. "You didn't. You... _traitor_. You would haven't be allowed to live this long if you hadn't-"

Yohji cut her off, hand moving to over her mouth. "People change, Pad. You aren't wearing dresses anymore and you don't want to go down to live with Mother. I met a girl." He leaned down, replacing hand with lips, inhaling the familiar scent. He pulled away just enough to speak against her lips. "You know I can't stop you. But I won't join you either."

She yanked him forward again, kissing with the skill born of needed practice. He held her for a moment, caught in the whirlwind as he tasted her again. Then she flung him away with startling strength, a flush rising to her skin. "You're pathetic." She turned to leave.

A thought struck him, a question he had ever since he woke up and she was gone. "Hey. Pad. Where did you wake up once puberty hit?"

Pad paused, and for a second he thought she wouldn't answer. Then, softly, as if this was a treasured memory, "In Germany. In a woman's bed while her husband just came home from doing his own sleeping around." She looked at him, her face soft and slightly open with the memory.

Yohji snorted. "Sounds like when I woke up here in Japan." He ran his gaze over her curves, noting that she had grown into quite the perfect woman. "You know despite how much I want to, I can't stop you. But you know once you're done, I can kill you without any consequence." With a nod upward, he continued, "And I doubt They'll wait for you to finish." He reached out to take her hat, wanting again to see her hair shining in the dull street lights.

"Says the one that betrayed his own heritage." Pad stepped away as she spoke, walking over to one inebriated customer, her fingers lightly drawing desire to the surface as she spoke to him quietly. Then she looked up at Yohji, eyes shining. "But even you can't get rid of our hunger." She pressed the unfortunate man up against herself, kissing him as she kept her eyes on Yohji's face. He moaned, his lower body arching towards her as if she had started fucking him right there. Pad's hand lowered, slipping between skin and cloth to massage his erection, still looking at Yohji.

He turned away, quickly. He didn't need it right now, and there was no used getting sucked back into that life. Asuka had given him a reason to leave it. However. He knew the other members of Weiß were looking for the culprit of the killers. Kritiker would eventually put everything together, even if the damned rules kept him from saying anything. And since he would have to refused the mission... Yohji shuddered, thinking of empty purple eyes and three minds shattered to her will.

_Maybe we'll get lucky,_ he thought morosely as he started down the street to his car, leaving Pad to her fun._ Maybe she'll take out Schwarz for her quota and be done with it. And maybe my ass will sprout wings so I can fly around the world._


	6. Chapter 5

Thirty Pieces

By Lilimundi

Notes: There is strong sexual and violent content within, as well as AU elements. This story takes place during the second part of Kapitel and will go to the end of Kaptiel.

Chapter Five

A stack of papers dropped next to him, startling Yohji out of his reverie. And it had been a nice one. The last two girls to leave had obviously been twins. The brunette had looked so innocent and young, while her blonde sister had a dark knowledge in her eyes. Making sandwiches would have been so much fun with those two. Yohji sighed, and stopped cleaning the store, looking at Ken with a raised eyebrow. "What's this?"

Given the cans that were missing, Ken looked far better than he should have. And it had to be Ken that swiped the beers. Omi was too innocent and Aya always turned his nose up at beer. Yeah, Yohji wondered how he was able to keep a straight face thinking that, knowing full well that all of them had gotten blitzed at one point or another given the jobs they took.

"It's information about the Coin Killer." Ken finished up his closing duties, wiping his palms off on his apron. "There's evidence this goes back to Germany."

Curious, Yohji flipped through the papers, focusing on dates and locations. It lent an air of truth to what he had been told. Starting in Germany, and rotating around there and Austria for a while, then slowly crawling across Europe and Asia. Nothing really clicked for him, though. No big names, no one that he recognized. _Must just be taking out minor talents,_ he decided, at least trying to look like this was all new to him. "Hir's been doing this for a while."

Ken nodded, tapping on the last few killings. "Look at this, though. Starting here, he's been killing people looking for something. And the latest, with Kobayashi Yukiko. She worked for Takatori Reiji."

Well, that definitely was new. "The pretty ones die too young." So whatever she was looking for was connected to Takatori. That would really bug Aya.

"Yohji! Focus." Ken leaned in, his eyes too honest and open to be real. Maybe at one time, but life had done too much to the boy for that to be more than a facade he desperately wanted to believe in. "If we can figure out what link Takatori had in Germany, we might be able to figure out why this is happening."

And why Takatori was able to get a hold of high level psychics as bodyguards. "And who it is. Good job, Kenken." Yohji looked around the store, trying to see if there was anything too glaringly messy. It wouldn't pass a thorough Aya or Omi inspection, but if the two were besieged early on, they wouldn't be able to tell between which was left over and which was because of customers. "Let's wrap it up."

Ken gave him a disbelieving look. "Don't tell me you have a hot date, playboy."

"Well, I promised I wouldn't talk," he teased, then shook his head at Ken's look. "Nah, just some contacts I know. They might know something about all this and they're usually in the same places night after night." Yohji messed up his hair, affectionately. "Don't worry, I'll bring you back a souvenir."

"If it comes with burning piss and rounds of drugs, I'll pass."

Yohji laughed, putting the broom away. "Fine, fine. See if I ever get you anything else. Ah, and Ken?"

"Yeah?"

"This is for you as well, but make sure to tell Aya and Omi to not drink my beer."

---

Wishmaster wasn't a club he'd normally frequent. They were very select in who they let in, and it wasn't just beauty or money. One never feared losing their wallet or their life while in Wishmaster, but one also had to be careful who they let lead them out of the club. But the music fit his mood, dark and growling. His English was fairly poor to begin with, but the woman snarling over a distorted guitar dropped his comprehension to zero. _Then again, I think she's not a native English speaker,_ he mused, looking over his sunglasses. Yohji inhaled the scent of bodies, alcohol, and recreational drugs, already starting to relax. One of the men, someone he recognized, smiled lazily at him. Yohji soon saw that he had dyed his hair a brilliant purple this time, and had a brand new piercing flicking enticingly on his tongue. Not as tempting as it would usually be. He sighed, flexing a gloved hand. His sex drive was being more picky than usual. It was disappointing.

_Not exactly what you're here for,_ he told himself. _You know the bars you can go to for that._ Yohji heard a murmured appreciation of his coat, and he smirked slightly. It wasn't exactly his mission coat, but it had been tailored along the same lines. It hadn't been used enough to lose the utter lack of color, the blackness that seemed like night itself had covered him. At least, that was how one particularly eloquent drunk had described it, right before wanting to take it off to see if body underneath was as good. Yohji couldn't walk right for a day after that and it had been worth it.

The music wasn't exactly easy to dance to. It wasn't meant to be. But then again, the music wasn't what he was here for either. A girl touched his coat with a small smile on ruby lips, her eyes sulfuric in color with reptilian slit pupils. If he had been anywhere else, he would have thought they were good contacts. Lightly, he took her hand and kissed the cold skin, never leaving her face. Her lips curved further, parting to show black teeth. Yohji ignored the shiver going down his back, refusing to show weakness. She slowly drew her hand back, leaning in to talk to him. "You haven't been here in years. Where in the world did you get the coat?"

He rested a hand on her hip, fingers gripping her flesh in a warning. "Heard anything interesting lately?" he asked, his hips moving in a deceptively lazy motion. Her head fell back slightly as they moved, slow pace in defiance to the harsh beat around them.

"There's another one of your type in town," she eventually hissed out, stroking his shoulders. "But you knew that, didn't you? Your people are insanely good at finding each other." She licked his ear, the cold flesh strangely whole instead of forked like most snakes.

"Mm." He pushed her up against a nearby pillar, hearing her snarl at being pinned. "Not what I wanted to hear. She's here looking for something. I want to know what, and how quickly I can get her out of here." He rolled his hips into her, watching her pupils dilate slightly.

"I don't have to tell you," she murmured in his ear. "But maybe you can persuade me... in the back rooms."

"I've fucked enough snakes that your snatch isn't currency enough," he told her blandly. She pushed him off, eyes flashing with anger, and stomped off. Yohji watched her leave, shaking his head. He wasn't that stupid. He had dealt with her before and knew she was a literal man eater. Not to mention that the back rooms were purposely made separate from the clubs. One took his life in his hands if he let anyone lure him there. He wasn't eager to repeat that mistake yet again.

There was another touch along his coat, one that brushed up against his neck. Then he froze as an unwelcome nasal voice whispered into his ear "Well, look what the cat drug in." Slowly, Yohji turned around to see green eyes and orange hair. He was smirking per usual, hair held out of the way with the ever present hideous hairband.

"I didn't know they were letting trash in," Yohji mused, wincing as the telepath tangled a hand in his hair, harshly. He didn't look away, though, steadily watching the other man with a defiant glare.

He laughed, leaning in close. Yohji rolled his eyes, not yielding either way. _**I was wondering that as well, Balinese,**_ came the taunting telepathic voice. _**Which little slut bunny did you charm into letting you in here?**_

_At least I don't have to make people not see me in order to get in,_ he mentally sniped back. The telepath grinned wildly at that, tapping his cheek hard enough that he was certain there were red stripes in the form of the bastard's fingers on his skin.

_**Please, call me Mastermind. Or Schwarz. It's funny when you Weiß kittens say that.**_ His fingers dug painfully into his throat as he stroked downward. Mastermind paused briefly, his thumb digging into the pulse in his throat.

Yohji exhaled sharply, grabbing his hand with more strength he was used to tapping into. _How about I call you dead if you break the neutrality of this place?_

Mastermind narrowed his eyes, watching him. _**So you do know about that. Sadly, I don't think I can take that name. There's already one Tot running about and I refuse to be connected to that idiot.**_

He would not think of how cute that girl and the telekinetic's relationship was, he would not think...

_**Yes, it's rotting Oracle's teeth too.**_ He leaned in, using his mouth to kiss his unresponsive lips as his mind said, _**You're more than meets the eye, aren't you?**_

_Get off,_ Yohji thought back at him, his mental tone sharp.

_**You were so much more responsive last time,**_ he sent back, licking his lips. _**If it hadn't been for that butch bitch, we would have been having sex right there on the dance floor.**_

The words chilled him. He didn't quite remember that night, his long term memory taking a nap the same time his thoughts were, but he did remember a male and the sharp pain in his ear that brought himself back together. _And when I'm sober, you're only alive because of the neutrality of this place, _he told him, trying to be firm.

_**And if you had anything to drink or smoke that night, I would have believed that.**_ Mastermind looked at him with too sharp eyes, the eyes of a telepath high off his gourd with thoughts. _**Not exotic enough for you? You're one picky man, Balinese. Most people would fall over themselves to fuck a German boy.**_

_I'd rather not catch something._

That startled Mastermind into laughing out loud. Yohji noticed that there was a wide berth around them, most likely other telepaths wanting some form of peace and quiet to converse. _**So what is your type?**_ he mused, a ghostly hand lightly brushing his head. _**Beyond female and breathing. You're even picky about breathing?**_

_I prefer my blood where it is. Get out of my head._

Instead, he smiled, showing too many teeth. _**I have to admit, Balinese, you have very good taste. With that coloring, I had wondered if he was fey as well.**_

Yohji pushed away at that with disgust, turning away. This may have been the supernatural underworld that Kritiker wouldn't ever be able to touch, but enough was enough. He was not going to put up with a telepath digging around in his head and trying to fuck with it sexually. He was not that bored and desperate. With that thought, he pushed through the crowd, ignoring the enticing touches.

"Kudoh."

He froze at the voice, deep and throaty. It was obviously the telepath fucking with his perceptions. No way in hell that... no. Yohji turned around slowly, inhaling sharply at the picture in front of him. It had to be mental manipulation. There'd be no way that Aya would be standing in front of him in a sleeker version of his mission coat, hair more vibrantly red than usual and eyes hot with desire. Aya wouldn't reach forward to take off his sunglasses, calloused hands (_even touch,_ Yohji thought, dazed) brushing against his skin. "Shit..."

Aya (no, this wasn't Aya) glared at him, eyes even darker with lust. And he understood lust. Oh, did he. Yohji heard himself groan when he groped him through his pants, his hands snapping forward to grab the man's hips. He inhaled sharply as warm lips touched his, deeply pulling in his scent. They kissed for one superheated moment, then Yohji reached up to Aya's midback, grabbed at what felt like nothing, and pulled.

The telepath yelped at the sharp yank on his hair, glaring at him as he lost concentration on his mental projection. _**What did I miss?**_

"Smell," he told him aloud, pushing him away. His nose reminded him that he needed a cigarette too, but he ignored that as he watched Mastermind warily.

The German opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, head tilted as he obviously listened to something in his head. With a Hitler salute, he said aloud, "Yes, noble leader!"

Yohji felt almost sorry for Oracle.

"Aw, don't look like that. We'll play again, kitten." The telepath smiled fiercely, then walked past him. _**You won't be able to hide forever.**_

Yohji watched him go, making sure he actually left. Everyone around him watched him with lust-filled eyes, desperately wanting to touch him and bleed out what had been raised between himself and Mastermind. No one would want to italk/i after that. He inhaled deeply, fighting his arousal back where it belonged. His fingers quickly tapped out a cigarette and his lighter, desperately needing it.

_Damned psychics,_ he thought as he left Wishmaster. _Always ruining the good parts._


	7. Chapter 6

Thirty Pieces

By Lilimundi

Notes: There is strong sexual and violent content within, as well as AU elements. This story takes place during the second part of Kapitel and will go to the end of Kaptiel.

This part features a truncated sex scene to keep in line with rules. If you wish to read a full version of that scene, click on the "homepage" link in my profile. It will take you to the "fanfiction" tag in my Livejournal so you won't have to mess with the non-fanfiction entries.

Chapter Six

"Weiß, Weiß!" Her mocking tone rang out, strange in his remaining ear. "The only thing all of you are interested in is that collection of men! Is this something I need to be born with a dick to understand?" She rubbed something between her fingers, the ear she had ripped off he realized with a sickening lurch. "I don't care about them. I'm looking for the host, not men that think too much of themselves."

He coughed wetly, thankful she hadn't actually punctured his diaphragm. "There's a reason," he rasped out, looking down to see his blood mixing with the muscle she had pulled off his bones. How he was still conscious was a miracle. Or perhaps her aura, which he could feel her reaching out with, the inhuman caresses causing lust to bubble up in his blood. "The host you're looking for is related to one of them."

She paused, the ear in her hand near her lips. She smiled and rest the flesh against her lips, almost whispering into it. "So I see. What do you know about Weiß then? Where is this host?"

"You don't know?" he asked her, disturbingly aroused by how her tongue flicked along his dismembered flesh. "Eszett had-"

His voice was cut off as she grabbed his throat, growling. "Eszett had what?" She relaxed her grip ever so slightly, just enough to let him talk.

"Why don't you ask them?" he shot back. He could see his death in her eyes. She had already screwed him over, promising something only she could give only to tear his ear off. He could have gotten this from any of the Eszett psychos. A bitter laugh hit his ear, and he realized right there he had been played. Badly. Of course he thought anyone that knew about him and Eszett would be from them. Of course the person that mentioned it had nothing to do with them.

"And lo, the light goes on upstairs," she mocked him, undoing his pants. Despite the abuse she had put him through, she could still grip a hard erection. But that was her power, wasn't it? Mental manipulation of... he groaned as she pumped him, watching his face go slack. "What were you thinking of, Child?"

He hated that. He was only a few years older than her, and she kept calling him that. But he couldn't think, not anymore. Her lips touched what little unblemished skin was left, making him gasp and want. He could hear her laugh, her thighs brush his as she straddled him. "Lucky for me, I'm not hungry," she purred in his remaining ear. "You have quite the nasty sexually transmitted disease, and those give me... indigestion." The last word was said on the edge of a laugh as she plunged her hands back into his body, this time grabbing the muscle attached to the underside of his lung and ripping it. That was the last thing he remembered as he passed out and her hands crept up under his ribcage.

Pad ripped out his heart, and licked the flesh, looking at the ruined figure of Ragdoll under her, delighted. "So she's his sister. I was so close to getting it from him then... Oh, how fun this will be."

---

It had been several days since seeing Pad and there still hadn't been another murder. Kritiker had been watching for similar murders around the world, thinking maybe she had moved out of Japan. If they hadn't figured out that she was looking for something and Takatori was involved, Yohji may have believed it.

But nothing came together. Why Takatori? What did Takatori know or have? And how did Takatori Reiji manage to have a complete psychic team as bodyguards? Despite going back out to Wishmaster, nobody knew anything about that. There had to be something. He chucked as another thought crossed his mind. Maybe it had to do with Aya. Seemed like everything and their dog had to do with Aya when it came to Takatori. Vengeance, his sister, Schreiend... there was something he was missing. Asuka would have been able to see it. He shook his head as his thoughts turned towards Asu... no. Neu. No matter how much he wanted her to be his Asuka, she wasn't. His hands shook as he pulled out his keys, remembering how it was to have her struggling weight on his back, and her gasped declaration of love to Masafumi.

_Damn it._ The keys hit the ground, his fingers unable to hold onto them with the onslaught of memories. He sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to put his thoughts back into order. Everything was coming at once, and it wasn't good for his state of mind. Yohji finally took a deep breath and scooped up his keys when he noticed that the grill hadn't been lowered on the shop. There weren't many lights still on, but he could make out two silhouettes moving around the back. Yohji had one hand on his watch as he moved forward before he realized that a) one of the figures was Aya and b) the figures were in a passionate embrace that most lovers would be jealous of. He chuckled, filing this away for future blackmail.

Mr. I-Don't-Deserve-Love had a boyfriend. Definitely worth some (private, when the katana was far away) teasing. Yohji turned away, nearly tripping over Omi's crutches as he went. _Damn it, chibi, you..._

No, that wasn't right. Omi couldn't go without his crutches yet. His leg was still too weak to stand on. Instinctively, Yohji crouched as he followed the crutches, hiding behind the stands as he moved. As he feared, the crutches pointed to a youthful leg, which connected to a hard breathing Omi, pupils dilated with forced pleasure and face empty of any spark of personality. Ken was across the aisle, laying in a mound of shattered pottery. _Good try, Ken,_ he thought bitterly, aware that the athlete was squirming, making aroused and needy noises.

He had managed to get behind Aya and the mysterious person. Though, considering the long green braid that he suspected would be there, "mysterious" was as wrong as "male" and "human" for this person. _Pad, what the fuck do you think you're doing?_ he wondered as she whispered in Aya's ear, getting a dazed response that made her laugh. She asked another question, this answer pleasing her less until the last part, where she nodded.

"Mm, I know where that is," she said, slightly louder. Languidly, she turned as he pulled a fistful of wire out, watching him with bright eyes. "They're delicious, Yohji," she said, voice husky. "You should have forgone being human." Pad shivered as Aya kissed her neck, being far more skilled at it than he would have thought from the standoffish swordsman. "But since you're not using them..."

"Let them go," he snapped out, slowly rising to his full height. "Whatever the hell you're looking for isn't here."

She lifted an eyebrow, her hand lightly brushing over Aya's groin. "It isn't? What do you think I'm looking for, Yohji?" Pad tilted her head back, kissing Aya deeply. It was so horribly erotic, so arousingly disturbing. "Go ahead, throw it at me," she murmured at him as Aya slithered to the ground, boneless in his bliss. "I was always curious what would happen if that happened."

Yohji didn't know either, only that it had been part of the instructions he had been given when he gave it all up. But damn it, this was going too far. The wire launched from his hand, winding around her upper arm. She watched this in shock. "How the hell did you get that fast?"

"Practice," he ground out, yanking. The wire bit deeply into her arm, cutting through skin and going towards muscle before the pain hit him and a web of lacerations appeared on his arm. _... fuck._

Pad bared her teeth and yanked as well, the wire cutting even deeper in as the tension finally snapped the weapon in two. She stumbled back as the wire broke, knocking over another row of pottery as she fought to regain her balance. Once she was done, her eyes followed the trail of blood to Yohji's arm, her grin widening as she unwound the wire from her arm. "Is that some kind of 'everyone will find their own path' bullshit?" she asked mockingly, dropping the useless weapon. Before he could answer, she ran forward, reaching for his arm.

She wasn't fast. Avoiding her grasp was easy enough, though he wasn't quite able to avoid her shoulder in the narrow aisle. Before she collided with him, he instinctively moved to take the hit and get-

Okay, second part wasn't possible. She wasn't particularly fast, but she managed to hit him with the same strength as a tank. Her shoulder slammed into his ribs with a disturbing cracking sound and he went flying backwards, actually coming off the ground for a short moment before crashing into a table. The pots that had been there crashed against his back, and he laid there for a dazed moment. Then he rolled inelegantly off as he saw Pad's fist coming in for him.

It broke the table. Right in half. Yohji swore and rolled again as she punched by his head, the dust from whatever crater she created obscuring his sight for a moment. He didn't have that kind of strength, and if his arm was any indication, any injury he'd give her would reflect back onto him. At the last moment, he raised an arm to block her incoming backhand. The resulting snap made both of them scream, and she stumbled back, a white shard poking out of her skin as well. Pad watched him, breathing as shakily as he was.

Then she laughed, weakly. "So that's why. I should kill you for interrupting me."

"You'd kill yourself," he mumbled, not sounding as sure as he felt. She bared her teeth, stumbling over Ken's body. Yohji weakly pulled out another length of wire as she bent down to kiss him, trying to ignore the pain the gesture made. "Just... get the fuck out, Pad. Out of here, out of Japan. You eat any of my teammates and I will kill you. And I'll kill you again down in Hell."

Pad snarled, watching him. Then she pushed off Ken, dashing out into the night. Slowly, Yohji released his grip and let the wire slowly wind back up. He hadn't been hurt like this for a while. Shit. First thing was first, he'd have to get the bone back under the skin. It'd go back to where it was supposed to once he took care of the rest. One good thing that stuck around after giving it up. He took as deep a breath as he could and pushed, his senses blacking out with the pain as the bone slid back under.

How long he was out, he didn't know. All he knew was there were hands that brought him back, touching him. They groped and rubbed, followed by lips and hot bodies. Yohji groaned, needing that heat. Someone kissed him, and he kissed back, reaching out instinctively for that heat. He opened his eyes as he felt a draft on his chest, looking through a haze of red hair.

_Oh shit._

Two pairs of hands were on his pants, while one pair was pulling his coat back enough to suckle on his neck. Yohji ripped his face away from the kiss, looking down to see Aya's pale hands aiding Omi's young ones in undoing his pants. Omi leaned down to kiss his stomach, lapping at the skin. Ken was holding onto him as he licked a line from his throat to his shoulder, making him shudder. Aya hovered over him, still searching for his lips. Yohji looked up at him, up into empty purple eyes.

_Shit!_ This wasn't what he wanted. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus and not lose himself in the touches. He wouldn't do this to them, he- Aya had kissed him again. Yohji inhaled, smelling the very _male_ scent of the swordsman, and nearly lost it. _Damn it. Damn it. Damn-_ There was a hand in his pants, stroking him, and that was it. Yohji pushed mentally, staying as still as he could. If he didn't aggravate his injuries or respond he could focus... _Stop._

They stopped. Yohji let out a soft breath against Aya's lips, trying to block everything out. He didn't need this. He didn't need this. He... _She didn't shatter you,_ he thought, holding onto that. _You're not that deeply under._

Aya's lips suddenly tensed. "About time," he mumbled, relaxing. Ken scrambled backwards, the jostling setting off another wave of pain until he clamped it. Omi shakily pulled himself off, making a soft pained noise as he moved his legs. Aya was the last to pull off, and the fierce anger in his eyes made Yohji wonder if he was going to live long enough to take care of his wounds. "... look, just call Kritiker. I don't know what happened either."

Maybe they'd believe it.

---

"No ambulances," Yohji snapped out, wrapping a rag over his bleeding forearm. He was being strangely cautious, enough that Aya realized that his arm had been broken. "It's not that bad, I promise. Hey, tomorrow I'll be back to normal, good as new. I gotta go out and have a-"

There was no way Aya was going to let him continue on with this bullshit. "You are going to sit right where you are and tell me what the hell is going on."

"Get off it, Fujimiya, you're not the leader." Yohji closed his eyes, breathing shallowly. Bruised ribs, at least. "And I don't know what's going on."

"You fooled no one." Aya grabbed his lacerated arm, fingers digging into the skin. Something made his stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way, but he ignored it. "Somehow you're the only one not affected, with those injuries, and how we woke up? Not to mention you're now trying to hide?" Yohji glared at him, trying to pull his arm back when Aya had the urge to lean down, licking the blooded skin. It tasted like blood and sweat, and for some reason it made his skin heat up. Then the compulsion drained away, and Aya dropped the other man's arm.

"Shit." Yohji looked down at his arm, wincing at what he saw. The wounds had closed to raw red lines, still open wounds but far less deep and threatening. Aya's hand crept to where he would normally have his katana, extremely uneasy about this.

"Who are you?" he growled, watching him warily. Yohji put his hand to his head, looking away. "Answer the question!"

"Exactly who I was five minutes ago. Exactly who I was last week. Shit, Fujimiya, you think I got out of those scrapes due to my good looks?" He glared at Aya, grabbing a towel and folding it into a makeshift sling. "Just... leave it out when you tell Kritiker. She messed with your head to the point you nearly fucked me and went away. No injuries." He tried to slide by Aya without touching him, making an annoyed sound every time he came close to brushing against him. "What?"

"What the hell are you? And why the hell should we trust you anymore?"

The older man winced at that. "Walked into that. Look, you'll just have to take my word on it. The entire thing is extremely hard to explain and I'd let to get my arm taken care of before it decides to drop off and you are not helping by standing there and looking utterly fuckable and like you're about to take my head off."

The words sent a rush of blood south. He could feel something greatly unnatural about the lust he was suddenly feeling, but at the same time it felt a long time in coming. Aya narrowed his eyes, turning slightly and whipping at punch at Yohji's head-

-and mashing his lips against the blond's, snarling slightly as Yohji's shirt was too stubborn to come off. He felt the man pulling at his shirt, trying to rip it off. Somewhere in there, Yohji had become very shirtless and Aya ran hands and lips over the skin in front of him. Suddenly, he bit his shoulder and pushed back, panting as Yohji grabbed his own hair, trying to focus. It worked to a slight degree, until the man looked back at him and grabbed the hem of his shirt, yanking up. Aya instantly went back to his shoulder, licking and biting at the skin there. His hands dipped under Yohji's pants, taking a slight pleasure in hearing a surprised noise come from the man. He felt Yohji undoing his pants, the touch strangely hot on his body.

There wasn't time for romance or thought. Aya bit his lower lip as Yohji stroked him quickly, noting in the back of his mind it was his broken arm he was using. He forced himself to look down, watching the skin shift and smooth as Yohji stroked him, resting his forehead on Aya's. With a snarl, Aya unzipped and shoved off Yohji's pants, his fingers feeling numb and cold, not quite responding to his thoughts. Yohji started to pull away, but he stopped him with a kiss, biting his lower lip harshly. He felt his back hit the wall hard, but it ceased to matter when he felt Yohji's hand go lower, teasing. His hand pulled back, and when Aya was about to grab it and force it back where it belonged when he grabbed a bottle of lotion. The cream was slathered generously on his fingers and spread against him, still strangely warm. His forearms hit the wall suddenly, the shock of being manhandled replaced by the delicious pain of being filled.

He forgot about everything as the thrusts started. His fingers clawed at the wall as he moaned, each point of contact burning hot and overwhelming. His nerves spun thinner and thinner in the pleasure, each thrust stretching them more without breaking. He leaned his head back as there was a suckling at his neck, and suddenly, they snapped. Pleasure overrode each of his senses. He was only briefly aware of being slowly lowered to the ground. He felt fingers at his neck, firm but not threatening, and heard a soft, relieved sigh.

A gentle kiss on the forehead completed the strange act, then darkness took him.


	8. Chapter 7

Thirty Pieces

By Lilimundi

Notes: There is strong sexual and violent content within, as well as AU elements. This story takes place during the second part of Kapitel and will go to the end of Kaptiel.

Chapter Seven

Aya looked almost fragile when asleep. Yohji had expected it somewhat, but it hit him harder as he tucked the man into bed. The slight post-coital glow lend a childish air to his features, and the contrast between the blood colored hair and pale skin had never been so pronounced.

Shit. He hadn't meant to do that. It was probably a good thing he had met Asuka when he did. Aya was still alive, despite the idiotic demands of Yohji's body. He eyed the line of Aya's body, exhaling. The swordsman was going to wake up confused and pissed, wondering what and why. There was a definite chance that he'd make it a quest to hunt Yohji down and demand answers, possibly taking his head first then asking questions. Knowing Aya... Yohji shuddered, looking away from the katana next to the bed. It was less "possible" and more "if it doesn't happen, Hell froze over." If he stayed and explained, he might, _might_ avoid that fate.

And all of Schwarz might go to a Catholic Mass not to kill people.

No, that was the stupid plan. Not to mention it left a certain someone alive and free. It had been bad enough knowing she was back in town, but attacking his team... for what? Nothing made sense. She was looking for something, and he doubted it had to do with him. Why would it? They hadn't been more than friends back then, and they had changed so much.

He had changed.

Yohji looked down at Aya, realizing he was petting his hair. Shit. That was one thing people didn't realize. The stupid thing cut both ways. Even now, Aya turned his head slightly into the touch, and a spark of _need_ ran through his body. He could lean down and take him again, over and over until he had nothing left to give. Aya wouldn't have a choice. And in the middle of it, lose who "Yohji" was, the friends he had made, the morals he held onto.

No. Yohji jerked his hand back. There was no question about that one. He had the brief urge to lean over and kiss Aya's head, but that was a disaster waiting to happen. Bad idea. He went to leave, then heard a sound behind him. A searching sound, then a soft rasping of metal being partially unsheathed. Yohji looked behind him, noticing the dazed look on Aya's face and the naked steel slowly being shown. He shook his head, leaving before Aya's eyes could focus.

Life sucked. Even with Aya's sister missing, Schwarz and Schreiend bothering them, and having to deal with a slightly less organized Kritiker (Yohji actually missed Persia. He may have been hiding his true motivations, but at least he did his research), that life was better than this crap. He lit up once outside, inhaling the smoke deeply as he walked.

_I'm not going to be able to return._ The thought hit him hard. Kritiker wasn't stupid. _Aya_ wasn't stupid. Even if they didn't get someone to tell them exactly what was going on, they'd guess. If he hadn't fucked Aya... no, it wasn't worth it to think about that. Just find Pad, make her regret coming to Japan, and move on. He'd have plenty of time afterwards to wallow in angst.

He took one last drag off the cigarette, snubbing it out but dropping it into one of his pockets. Gross, but he didn't need to leave a DNA trail. He'd take of it later. First thing was first, he needed to find-

_**Well, look what the kitten dragged in.**_

---

Aya woke, wondering both why he was in bed, naked and why he had partially unsheathed his sword. There was something he had to remember. Something about last night, lilies, and Yohji-

He sat up suddenly, ignoring the way his vision darkened around the edges. That particular memory was sharp, almost embarrassing. It had... been barely consensual. Aya looked at his katana, more memories coming back. The girl. The way he had woken up in the flower shop. Yohji's behavior after. There was a snarl starting in the back of his throat, angry and betrayed.

Slowly, he stood, unsheathing his katana completely. Someone was talking softly outside his door. Without a single thought to modesty, he flung open the door, aiming the point right in the face of a startled Kritiker agent. "Good morning, Abyssinian," the woman said, staying calm. The man next to her moved slightly, but she looked over at him, shaking her head slightly. "Manx is in the shop. You may want to get dressed first." She leaned back slightly as the tip came closer, exhaling. "Abyssinian!"

Omi leaned into view slightly, looking harried. "Aya-kun. It's okay. Rex, let me talk to him." The woman, Rex, looked a little wary and he frowned. "Rex! He won't injure me. Aya-kun, put away the sword."

Rex lowered her hands as Aya slid the katana back in the sheath. He didn't take his eyes off the woman as he backed up and grabbed a pair of pants, though, not exactly trusting the new face. She nodded as he came back to the door, not empty handed but not threatening her. Yet. "We'll be down the hall, Bombay," she told Omi softly, leaving to give the two an illusion of privacy.

Omi leaned back on his crutches, looking at Aya. He coughed, awkward. "So, um... Aya-kun..."

"How are you, Omi?"

The boy blinked, surprised at the question. "I'm fine. What about you? You're moving stiffly, and..." At this, his cheeks turned a brilliant pink. So that had happened where the other members of Weiß could hear or see. Kudoh was a dead man. "We can't find Yohji-kun anywhere."

Aya nodded, hand tightening on his sword. "I doubt we'll be seeing him. Did you... see him, anytime after?"

"No." Omi studied him, and Aya had the uncomfortable feeling that the boy was putting together puzzle pieces that he himself couldn't even see. It was annoying how smart he was. "Go talk to Manx," was the only thing he would say.

It was the only thing he could do, anyway. Aya made only one stop to put his katana away - in the light of day, it would be harder to explain it to outsiders - then started the slow process to the store.

The store looked exactly how Aya remembered. There was blood splatter around several tables and a broken length of blooded wire in the middle of one splatter. Several pots had been shattered, and there was the crater by the broken table. Aya repressed a shudder, not even remembering any of that. Whatever their attacker had been, she had to be _strong_. It wasn't easy to break any of that, and the crater was definitely fist sized.

Ken was painstakingly sweeping up bloody shards of pottery and bagging them, incredibly focused on that to the point he didn't even notice various Kritiker agents swarming about, taking pictures of the damage and bagging clues. Aya looked over to Manx, wedged in a corner where she wouldn't be in the way of the forensic sweep and talking furiously on her phone while directing people around. He slowly made his way over to the woman, watching her eyebrows climb into her hair as she wrapped up her call. "Abyssinian. Good morning. Nice of you to finally get to us." She looked over him, from how he moved to the splinter stabbed fingers. "I hadn't been told that there had been any injuries."

Upon hearing that, Ken flushed a deep red and looked vaguely uncomfortable. With as much dignity he was allowed, Aya pulled his spine straight. "None from the fight," he told her, voice very determinedly telling her to drop it.

"Ah." She slid her phone into her belt case and looked at him, cataloguing his features and how he was moving. "And where is Balinese?"

There was a crash, and Ken tried to clean up the piece of pottery he had dropped. Aya attempted to ignore him. "Given the current state and the ambush-"

Manx held up her hand. "I wasn't asking why he wasn't here to answer questions."

Ah. He nodded, crossing his arms as he leaned tiredly against a wall. He felt as if he was about to fall right back asleep, despite the late hour. No doubt because of what Yohji had done to him last night. "I don't remember the attack itself. The attacker was a psychic of sorts." He paused as she nodded, writing down his words. "After, I suppose you've already heard from Siberian and Bombay."

"I would like to hear it in your words, Abyssinian."

Memory of waking on the ruined floor of the shop, his lips covered in Yohji's blood and his hand with Omi's on Yohji's pants slammed into his head, and he knew he was blushing. "I awoke kissing Balinese and aiding Bombay and Siberian with undressing the man. He had relaxed as we moved off him, muttering something much like 'About time.'"

Manx looked at him from over her notepad, frowning. "Abyssinian, why did you feel to add your post-attack activities to this meeting?" The way she asked the question, however, said she had also asked Ken and Omi, and that they had linked it the way he would.

"Shortly before losing consciousness, I had felt... what could only be described as a wave of lust. Given that I hadn't felt anything of the sort for this woman before then, I assume it was a psionic attack, similar to Mastermind's abilites."

"Describe the events leading up to your loss of consciousness in full."

Aya relaxed, these memories slightly less embarrassing. "A woman came into the flower shop twenty minutes before closing. She was tall for a woman, perhaps around one seventy, one seventy-five centimeters and sixty-five or seventy kilograms. She was dressed in a tailored black suit with a white button shirt and a black fedora on her head. Green eyes and hair. Her hair reached past her back. Pale skin. She looked at the flowers for around five minutes. Lilies. She kept asking which were Lilium. Then she inquired about Balinese. When I told her he would not be coming in, I felt that wave of lust and lost consciousness."

Manx nodded. "And Balinese?"

He would not blush, he told himself firmly. Why had he left his sword in the room? "When I studied him, it looked like he had been in the fight and was greatly injured."

"Then why aren't we taking him to the hospital?"

He knew his cheeks were burning red. "After calling Kritiker, I followed Balinese to his quarters. There, I asked him about what had happened, and pressed some of his injuries." Aya looked into Manx's eyes, trying not to falter. "There was that same surge of lust, but I found myself vaguely in control of my actions. And when it suddenly cut off, the injury I had prodded had healed somewhat."

Manx dropped her pen, looking at him. It was obvious this was new. Ken and Omi may have guessed, but it was obvious they hadn't been hit by the same rush. "Balinese exhibited the same abilities as the attacker?"

"Yes." Aya inhaled deeply, forcing his shame away. "Last night, Balinese and I had... intimate relations. During the act, I could feel the heat leaving my body." His hands still felt cold and numb despite the abuse they had been put through, and he could see Manx quickly motioning for bored paramedics to come to her side. "And also during, Balinese was healing."

"I see." Her eyes sharpened, looking over the ruined shop. "And after?"

"Balinese fled. I was... too weak to follow."

Manx made a frustrated noise, kneeling down to pick her pen back up. "Had Balinese mentioned anything about America or Agent Ragdoll?"

"No." But now he was curious. Agent Ragdoll? In America?

She bared her teeth in a fierce smile. "The killer made a mistake and killed a Kritiker agent. He had been under suspicion as an Eszett agent, and we were logging his every keystroke in hopes to find something to indict him on. He was a little too good at hiding his tracks, but thankfully for us, we were better at finding them. We found him doing research on your team, and more specifically on your sister. Don't kill the paramedic, Abyssinian."

Aya regretfully let go of the man, still feeling the rage over somebody investigating his little sister. "Go. On."

"We had a camera in his office. His last visitor, and finally the first look at the killer, matches the description you gave of your attacker perfectly." Manx drew another breath to say more when her phone rang. "Excuse me." She answered it, her voice clearly annoyed with the interruption, then her face cleared with surprise and happiness. "You do? Yes, yes, connect us right away. Yes, I speak English fluently."

Aya watched as she moved slightly away, switching effortlessly to English. He spoke it as well, but Manx obviously used it more often than he thought. "Hello. My name is Manx. I had been told you were the one to talk to about possible supernatural connections." She nodded a few times, leaning against a counter as one of the technicians gave her a dirty look. "There were killings here in Japan... ah, you've already heard of them. Yes, I'm aware. Yes, I..." Her face softened here. "He was a good man. But our American branch has just lost one of its members. Agent Ragdoll, also known as James Anderson." She threw her pad down onto the counter and started writing furiously, speaking too quickly for Aya to catch. "Yes, a silver coin. I showed a picture of it to a Catholic priest here, and he said it was not them. Your assistant?" She paused, then nodded. "Yes, put him on. Mr. Bob, I'm told you- Yes, I am Japanese." Manx listened, a look of distaste crossing her face, then switched back to her native tongue. "And why is it you don't want him to hear? I see... hmm. You were mentioning something about the coins?"

She wrote for several minutes, asking more questions as she wrote. "One final question. Is it possible for a male to also be- lilu. I see. Thank you." Her face slowly became still and remote with anger, and she snapped her phone closed. "Disgusting." She looked around the store, at how even the most diligent worker had given up pretenses of working and were listening to her. "It looks like we are looking for a Judeo-Christian demon called a 'Lilin.' They are said to be Lilith's children," her face told everyone what she thought of the likelihood of that, "and they are rumored to be succubae and incubae."

Aya's eyes went wide at that, understanding now why she asked about the male. "And the coins?"

"Apparently some bargain. If they kill thirty of the children _they_ had with humans, the psychics, they won't be killed by angels and be granted full demon status." Manx looked down at her notes, at the mix of English and Japanese scrawled on the paper. "The pervert had mentioned since Ragdoll was most definitely a psychic - apparently not one of great power, but he was part of a system for less powerful talents - and a coin was left in his body, that it has to be one of the lilin."

Which explained the look on her face. Manx looked at Aya and Ken, then started to swiftly walk out, motioning for them to follow her. The two men followed her up to Omi's, meeting up with Rex and her partner. Sadly, Aya understood the caution they were showing there. Takatori Mamoru was an important figure in Kritiker, both as everyone's darling Tsukiyono Omi and as Persia's nephew. Manx dismissed the two agents and filled the boy in with what she had just learned. Omi's eyes grew wider and wider with each word, and he kept looking at Aya with worry. "Then, does that mean Aya-kun...?"

"I'm fine," he said firmly.

"Yohji-kun," Omi murmured. "I never would have guessed a lilu or that he knew the Coin Killer. Manx, I don't think-"

"Bombay." Despite her gentleness, the order was there. Omi fell silent. "It doesn't change the fact that his presence led the Coin Killer here, what happened with Abyssinian, nor that he fled after these events. I won't assign you to bringing in Balinese yet, but do not engage him and report any sightings."

"Who will you have bring in Yohji-kun?"

"Crashers," Aya interrupted.

"While you'd normally be right, Abyssinian, I doubt the Crashers will be strong enough. We will be hiring freelancers, someone that moves in the same supernatural circles."

"And the Coin Killer?" Ken asked, eyes slightly unfocused. His hands trembled with promised violence and need.

"You may have to work with the freelancers," she told him, steady.

Omi blinked. "Manx. Does this mean we're officially on the case?"

Her lips quirked, holding up her notepad. "White hunters, deny this dark beast her tomorrow."


	9. Chapter 8

Thirty Pieces

By Lilimundi

Notes: There is strong sexual and violent content within, as well as AU elements. This story takes place during the second part of Kapitel and will go to the end of Kaptiel.

Chapter Eight

Someone had done a real bang-up job on Weiß's cutesy cover business. It was obvious to the not-so-casual passerby that much of the decorations had been smashed and there were broken pieces that shouldn't be broken laying about. It was overall visually impressive, a warning call made unknowingly to those lurking within.

And that wasn't even the tasty part.

He inhaled the night air, deeply tasting the pollution of the world that clung to major cities. Thoughts crowded him, threatening to drown him in their immediacy. They all clamored for importance, shouting that their problems were the ones to be listened to, they had the worst problem out of everyone in Japan, nay, the world. They stuck to him, sweet as ambrosia, a golden oozy honey, trying with all their might to drag him under. But there were only four minds he was interested in, their thoughts as to why this attack happened. One was strangely woozy, sliding in and out of unconsciousness randomly and pleasantly fuzzy when aware. The thoughts tasted of sexual exhaustion, a body high on hormones. Two were uncomfortable and embarrassed - he could always rely on that kitten for his inappropriate sexual timing! - but one was thinking and putting pieces together. If the child ever decided to fully embrace his genes, he'd be one scary bastard. And one...

Oh ho! Lost kitten, ahoy. He was adding to the air's pollution, puffing on a cigarette like it held the secrets to life, the universe, and everything. He was moving away from the flower shop, and would be passing him at any moment. Given his deep thoughts (finally, he had fucked the fey one! He knew the angst for that would be delicious), he wouldn't notice the brightly colored creature half hidden in shadows.

It was strange, the thoughts he kept having. Why would he, of all people, be worried about a ibond/I because of sex? Or about what his woefully ignorant employers would think? No, not think. There were delightful thoughts here, all swirling chaotically. His thoughts kept returning to someone Eszett had kept their eye on, and had lost when she left their direct sight. The name the geezers referred to her as had given their berserker fits of giggles, for good reason given her talent. She had taken out someone within Eszett ranks - not someone too powerful, since anyone with a modest telepathic talent could have seen right through her pale tinkering, but a scout. Someone who was watching for another link to their insane perfect world. There was talk that she found something... but of course, iwhat/I was something only she knew in her beautiful empty head.

The kitten snubbed out his cigarette, shoving it into a pocket. Disgusting, but too much could be done with something he had touched so... intimately. He was putting his thoughts together. No, that wouldn't do. There was so much he could find here. More importantly, there was so much he could ifuck up/i. He couldn't let this prize get away.

biWell, look what the kitten dragged in./i/b

He stopped, hand going to his watch. He could feel the kitten's thoughts freezing, trying to turn to unreadable stone and iron. But as anyone could tell you, stone and iron could tell you enough by themselves, if you were as versed in reading them as he was. He was surprised to see him, naturally. With how hard he was thinking, a parade of the loveliest geisha and most exotic fey men could have come up and bared their goods right in his face and he wouldn't have noticed. Speaking of fey... he fluffed up the thoughts, trying to get to the one that would explain that mystery once and for all.

Only a burst of speed (it was fucking ihilarious/i how little Balinese thought it was a mind trick) kept him from finding out how his knuckles tasted. "I'm not in the fucking mood right now, Mastermind," he snarled, eyes shadowed.

"Looked like to me you were in a very fucking mood," he murmured back, lingering on a delicious sight of that pale skin bared, perfection only enhanced by the scars that wound around his body. Head bowed, red hair spilling like blood over bone, fingers scrabbling on the wall, trying to find purchase in the splintering wood. He had been needy, brought down to only his animalistic components, and the sight was beautiful. Yes, there would be a day he'd be able to see it first hand, feeling the last vestiges of his sanity buckle under the helplessness.

He could feel the prickling of need roll through the veins of his arms, turning into pinpoints of heat across his chest and face. Lust, uncomplicated by type and time. Pure need. He could almost taste the foreign cigarette taint on skin. It would be the easiest thing in the world, undoing his pants and inhaling the scent of male genitalia as more blood rushed to the area. Tasting which soap he used to lovingly clean the polish off the jewels, if his diet seemed to truly subsist of smoke and alcohol. The need slid sinuously through his skin, dark edged, almost as if he could lose what soul he retained to it-

And with a chuckle, he pinched the need off, amused at the intense gaze Balinese gave him. "Claws," he warned, giving the man a pat just short of a slap. "You don't want me to have to declaw you, do you?" The teasing words were paired with a sharp telepathic tug, warning him of the grip he could put on his thoughts. Balinese winced, a more... human look returning to his eyes. Oh, the fun he could have with that.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Well, right now, I want to know how good a lay Abyssinian is," he responded mildly. "Is he as cold as he looks? Freezing inside, sculpted by the Ice Queen herself? Or his he as haughty as the sunnier courts are, frigid only out of intense inbreeding?"

He rolled his eyes. "Is that what all this stalking is about? All this fighting and killing and kidnapping? Finding out what the hell that family is so you can tap that ass yourself?"

... well, he wouldn't say it, but it would just be a nice side benefit.

"And neither, asshole."

Neither? iNeither?/i He frowned, pressing a little further. He had to be lying. There was no-

iSchuldig. Get your mind out of there and bring him back./i

Ah, the sound of a nosy busybody with his own agenda. Why in the world did they need this kitten past the vast amounts of amusement the entire team could inflict upon him? biWhat little scheme are you cooking up now, ever so wonderful leader?/i/b

At one point, he had said that it took hours to get the oily feeling his sarcasm left behind out of his head. iThere's a new player on the scene. Now get your ass in gear./i

biJawohl, mein Führer!/i/b

Mm, entertaining thoughts of dropping him off the nearest cliff once their plans were done. And it was complete with aftermath, broken bones and all. Someone certainly knew how to sweet talk. But since his wishes did actually go right along with their leader, he languidly reached out with a telepathic hand, poking and twisting the conscious line of thought until it hummed, then went blank. Balinese swayed ever so slightly there, hinting at a subconscious rebellion at the manhandling. Curious, he plucked at a command to walk him forward, and two agonizing seconds ticked by before his feet lurched forward.

biYo, Crawford, we have a live one here./i/b

iHm. We will deal with that when the time arrives. For right now, shut your mental lips and get back here./i

Something big must have come through, he mused, lighting his own cigarette and watching Balinese's head twitch slightly at the scent of nicotine. A definite live one, still fighting under the telepathic suggestion to shut up and start walking. His movement was jerky, unrealistic. Good thing the resident crystal ball had let him drive. biWe're going. The kid still up? We're going to need him once we get back./i/b

There was the mental equivalent of the person on the other end of the line talking to someone in the same room, a soft buzz of noise that could be puzzled out if he could be arsed to do so. iIs he fighting?/i came the soft, almost inflictionless young voice. As usual, the boy almost sounded like he was deigning to pay attention to them, despite how beneath him the entire human race was.

biIf you decided to practice your understating abilities, yeah./i/b He would be perfectly fine, but there was no way he would be able to keep him docile without constant monitoring. Sleep was required, and as the rest of his team learned, a telepath low on sleep came up with the strangest visions to toss at his teammates.

iI'm up. There's something interesting about our mole that was just dug up./i

A small drop of blood had appeared on the kitten's face, dripping slowly from his nose. Another drop appeared, his face straining. biGood./i/b He was going to have to put this kitten out of commission for a few days just to let his poor brain recover. biOkay, kiddo, on our way!/b/i

---

Cotton. He never would have given it up if he had known that after each surgery he would feel like this. The low level of regeneration he still retained wasn't worth this shit. His head felt stuffed to the brim with the wooly material, slowing his thoughts. Curiously, the usual nasty taste in his mouth was absent. There was a slight metallic taste, like he had blood in his mouth. Or, given how his face felt when he wrinkled the skin, he had gotten a nosebleed. Funny, his nose didn't hurt. He tried to lift a hand to wipe at his nose, heartbeat increasing as his hand wouldn't respond to the command. No, the muscles responded, but his hand remained on his thigh. He was sitting upright? What-

"I wouldn't."

The young voice came to the side of him. At most, he could just look out of the corner of his eye to see a blur of grey and brown lounging against something. That voice was almost familiar, though. It was soft, as if the speaker wasn't used to using it. Or saw no reason to speak. There was little inflection except a slight, almost automatic contempt. He tensed as the blur moved, unable to do anything else. All that happened was the person settled into a more comfortable position.

And then silence. No, not quite. A soft familiar sound soon cut through the silence, something he had heard whenever Omi-

Omi. Shit. The memory of what had happened punched through the cotton. Yohji cussed softly, muscles clenching and shaking as he tried to regain control of his body. There was a soft, annoyed sigh, and a too rhythmic tapping of a key as he slumped against the unnatural hold, panting. "Are you finished?"

That certainly wasn't Omi, or anyone in Kritiker he recognized. That meant that what happened with the telepath- "What the hell do you want with me, Schwarz?"

Nothing but typing. More movement, something that looked like a stretch, but the typing sound didn't abate. He wasn't using his hands? That would mean- Shit. No, he wasn't getting away from a high level telekinetic any time soon. Yohji could fight the immobilization all he wanted, the most he would be able to do is twitch a finger and strain all his muscles.

What the hell did Schwarz want with him? Unless they had some kind of sensor attached to their collective asses when a member of Weiß would be out on their own and open for attack... what was sad was Yohji was actually thinking seriously about that. He'd been through too much shit recently. Though, where the hell was Mastermind? Wouldn't he be all over having a member of Weiß at his feet, mentally trussed up and ready?

"James Anderson, Ragdoll, was killed in his office four nights ago."

The sudden break in vocal silence would have had him twitching off the couch if he hadn't been telekinetically tied down. Yohji rolled his eyes as far as he could to one side, trying to get a good look at the boy. He sounded bored, like keeping members of a rival assassin team and feeding them random information was normal. "Yeah, so?"

"Hm."

Little- "Why the hell did you tell me that, anyway?"

"The killer had green hair, masculine clothing, and was strong."

Shit. Another one Pad took out. He really should have killed her when he had the chance, consequences be damned. "Again, so?"

A soft nasal chuckle came from the doorway, causing Yohji to try and twitch off the couch yet again. "As in 'lily pad,' Balinese?" Mastermind asked, a barely there touch moving in his mind. "Very unoriginal. And aren't flowers more your thing, anyway?"

Given her heritage, that she hated being called "Lily," and the fact she was- Yohji wanted to shake the thought out of his head. "What the hell do you want, Schwarz?"

"Little this, little that," came the breezy answer and equally nonchalant telepathic brushing. The damned touch was going through his memories, Yohji realized with horror. Trying to find something important. Damn it, he had to protect the team. Whatever the hell he was looking for, Yohji wouldn't give it over that easily.

"Ragdoll was approached by someone he assumed was from Eszett," the telekinetic said, annoyed. Mastermind rolled his eyes, listening to something internal from the young boy. "She gave a code name. The Lilin."

Yohji was not going to be able to keep the bark of laughter from escaping, though he managed to keep the rest of the laughing fit behind his lips. Lilin, of course. What a pretentious piece of work she became. Lilin. Mirth bubbled in his throat and he couldn't help but let it loose, chuckling helplessly at the new information.

"I'm glad that amuses you too," Mastermind purred. Yohji could barely feel it, but there was a questing hand in his memories, tracing the line of thought he was having. Damn it. What could he think about that would keep the fucking telepath from- "You did not just do that."

Heh. Oh hell yes he did. The perks of dating women that were still heavily into cutesy pop.

"Morning Musume?" The telekinetic piped up, the tone arched and slightly amused. Mastermind flicked a rude gesture at him, two fingers saluting him in a very British way. "Not interested."

The telepath snorted, leaving the room. Damn it, what did Schwarz Iwant/i from him? What in the world did he know that they wanted? And why the hell were they so interested in Pad (iLilin/i. It didn't stop being funny) anyway? Whatever it was, he had to get out and warn-

Warn who? Kritiker would know what happened between him and Aya by now. They weren't stupid, and if Manx herself didn't figure out what was happening, Omi would be able to dig up at least partial information. Would anything he say be believed then? Especially if all they knew was how a lilin could fall, not knowing the reverse...

biYou're giving me a fucking headache, Balinese. Night night./i/b

---

"W-what are you doing here?" No one should have been here except her and Nagi-chan. It was just rubble, trash. Nothing was left here, not after what happened with Nagi-chan's team. Her hands tightened on her umbrella as the person moved a large piece of ceiling with only gloved hands, her stomach twisting as a beautiful hand was revealed, the memory being assaulted by the dirty, broken thing left.

The person stood, turning to look at her. There was something about the person that reminded her of Schoen-chan, a haughty obsessed beauty. But that was all. Schoen-chan was smart. She had taught her all kinds of things. Schoen-chan had taught her good womanly things, strong womanly things. This person didn't have the same kind of smarts.

Also, Schoen-chan was blonde.

"I'm here to look for someone," the person purred, just dropping the stone. She jumped as it slammed to the ground, most likely crushing the hand even further. "You were taking care of her."

The pretty sleeping lady? "She's not here. Why are you here? Where's Nagi-chan?"

"Where did she go?" The person jumped down from the rubble, green braid following her like a snake. "I've been looking for her for so long."

"I don't think I can tell you. I don't know you." Papa always said don't talk to strangers. And the pretty sleeping lady was important. She couldn't tell this person where she was.

The person raised one hand, lightly touching her face. "A mistake, don't you think? We could learn to know each other so well." The person stroked her skin, making it heat up. She felt so hot. "I need to find her, and you look like such a nice girl."

She felt so, so, so hot. It was uncomfortable. And why shouldn't she tell this person where the pretty sleeping lady was? She was so nice... She touched her neck, lightly tracing her heartbeat. It felt really good, like how Nagi-chan would kiss her. Like how Schoen-chan...

Her hand tightened on her umbrella. Schoen-chan. Hell-chan. Neu-chan. Nagi-chan. No. She wouldn't tell anything. She stepped away, pointing the spike at the person's face. "No. You're not Schoen-chan. Only Schoen-chan can touch me there."

The person frowned, eyes narrowed. "You're making a mistake," the person warned, voice almost parenting.

She shook her head. "No. You're bad, and I won't tell you where the pretty sleeping lady is." Her chin lifted in defiance, looking at the person. "You hurt Schoen-chan's hand."

The person looked confused at that. She took advantage of that, thrusting her umbrella at the person's face. A red line appeared, like when Schoen-chan was hurt. But this one was more red, and spread quickly. Warmth bloomed in her chest at that, remembering Hell-chan's praise when she was practicing that move. She wanted to make Hell-chan, Schoen-chan, and Neu-chan happy. She'd do this for them. The person touched the red, looking shocked. There was anger when the person looked back, but instead of fighting back, the person started to retreat. Boooo. That wasn't fun. She thrust again, wanting the person to fight back, but hit empty air. Instead of staying, the person was running. Not fast, but definitely away. Within seconds, the person was gone.

She stood there for a bit, her hands tight on her umbrella. Then she walked over to the ceiling bit, trying to lift it. Nagi-chan would be able to. So she would try. She wanted to touch her hand one more time...

"Are you happy, Schoen-chan?" she panted, struggling with the heavy concrete. "Are you proud of me? Are you happy?" She continued to repeat this as she tugged, not noticing when she started crying.


	10. Chapter 9

Thirty Pieces

By Lilimundi

Notes: There is strong sexual and violent content within, as well as AU elements. This story takes place during the second part of Kapitel and will go to the end of Kaptiel.

Yes, more Zero Punctuation references. I couldn't help myself. And I dedicate the scene between Aya and Omi to a friend on IRC, Anica.

Chapter Nine

Keys tapped rapidly as Nagi worked, a headache starting to build behind his eyes from looking at the computer screen for so long. His fingers wrapped around a warm mug as lines of code appeared before him, taking refuge in both the sharp pungent scent of the soup and the heat being emitted from the porcelain. The weeks of duel kitten watching and non-stop research was starting to drag on him, making him wish for a night of uninterrupted sleep.

Then again, until everything was done with Eszett, sleep was a luxury none of Schwarz was able to afford. Nagi's eyes darted back and forth as he slammed telekinetic fingers into the keys, slowly sipping his soup as more information was revealed. Why their leader wanted information on demons was beyond him. It wasn't as if they were going to allow things to get that far. Then again, one never argued with a clairvoyant after the first time of disobeying orders and spending weeks laid up with broken bones and internal bleeding. It was a good thing he was a telekinetic that researched various procedures when bored, because a hospital on that mission was out of the question.

He rolled his neck, listening to the cracks and pops with a slight malicious glee. It was a pale imitation, but it was very similar to how bones sounded when they were introduced to walls at high speeds. Nagi went through the motions of stretching his muscles, rolling each shoulder around and working his way down his back, still reading what was in front of him. Much of what was here was conjecture, what they thought demons _should_ be like instead of what they _were_. There was a little more about the thorn in Eszett's side, the succubus shadow that seemed to be looking for the same thing they were. Hmph. Strangely, something about demons rising and falling, as if their point in being damned wasn't fixed. Killing others like themselves to fall further or giving up their immortality...

Nagi paid no mind to the script running in the background as his eyes flit over the words. Information about demon summoning, innocents, and the duel death of an innocent body housing a high level demon. Yes, it was what the elders were trying, but this one had a decided slant towards those already born demonic. Nagi paid no mind to the script collecting the information into the body of an e-mail, paid no mind to the address being filled out to one he had found during that one mission, and definitely didn't pay any mind to a meeting point being set up at the end of the message.

Crawford wasn't the only one playing against the rules. It seemed the only one not playing his own game was the most disturbing of the group, never knowing where his mind has gone now. And while it was difficult to scheme against a clairvoyant, it wasn't impossible.

Besides, the bitch threatened Tot. He didn't argue with Crawford about dating her, he just willfully ignored everything the American had to say. Asshole probably never had a lay in his life, or probably just did it out of pity. He'd have no idea how to be in a relationship.

Balinese groaned, his muscles rippling against the hold he had on him. Damn it, not now! Nagi rubbed his forehead as he switched his attention to the waking Weiß member, his eyelids starting to feel overheated. Damned stubborn Weiß. At least feeding the damned fool was easy enough. Shovel food in, puppet the body around to let waste out. He had even been nice and given the stinky kitty a bath once. Schuldig was being a brat; there wouldn't be any scars left.

There was a soft chuckle from Balinese. His mind started to go to places even Schuldig couldn't predict. "You know, I can tell love 'n lust," he slurred, only partly from waking from a telepathic induced sleep.

Nagi ignored him. This wasn't anything new. He'd start slurring about something like this once a day. Asuka/Neu, Abyssinian, the Lilin... it almost made Nagi wonder what kind of loop Schuldig had put his thoughts into or if this was to keep Schuldig from tugging on a line of thought. Whichever it was, it actually was very annoying. He couldn't wait until they found what they needed and killed the idiot.

Maybe he'd use his skull as a cup. Be more useful than what he was using it for now.

"Like, if you're really in love or it's just lust. Important to know that. Like, lusting after Aya. Human, you know? Yeah... human." Balinese closed his eyes, and Nagi found himself praying that he had fallen back asleep. "Loved Asuka. A lot. Human for her. Saw you with that girl once."

He froze, the keyboard going silent. He wouldn't-

"Pretty. Not as pretty as Asuka. But pretty."

Nagi's hands tightened on the mug, focusing on the screen before him. He should just ignore him. The damned kitten was just loopy on something. It wasn't like him seeing Tot was anything new, as it was. All of Schwarz knew. Farfarello, bizarrely, kept asking when she'd get pregnant. Something about the Church and children out of wedlock. Given how he was talking about how beautiful the children would be, he supposed that was the insane Irishman's way of saying he approved. Not that it meant that much in the long run.

"You wanna know if you love her? She's really really pretty... wouldn't be surprised if you do. You could lust after her, and she really keeps herself in shape. Assassins do it be-urk!"

That was it. Nagi stood, dimly realizing the walls were shaking as he walked over to the choking Balinese. Babbling on about his own life and woes was bad enough. He was not going to put up with Balinese talking about Tot like that. He loosened the choke just enough for the Weiß member not to fall unconscious yet. Oh no, Nagi wanted Balinese to suffer for that. He let the kitten take a few gasping breaths, then applied the unearthly pressure again.

"I don't care what you have to say about it," he hissed, watching with pleasure as Balinese's face darkened, the flush turning purple. Nagi held on for a few more seconds, then let go again, laughing darkly as he gasped for air. "You can say what you will about your own pathetic life. But you-" sometime during this, he had climbed into Balinese's lap, his hands on either side of his head "-will die for bringing her into it." With that, he applied pressure again, licking his lips as Balinese made pathetic noises. He found himself lowering his groin into him, rocking. Wouldn't that be the ultimate way for this beast to go, choked to death by a _male_ that was rapidly using his body to approach-

He felt the slap before he recognized the noise or movement. Nagi hit the ground in a daze, barely registering the needy intake of air coming from the couch, followed by a body slumping in forced sleep. He lifted his hand, absently touching the stinging skin on his cheek. "Is this going to be a regular occurrence, _Dad_?" he asked Crawford, using the same type of sarcasm Schuldig loved to employ.

Crawford looked at him and Balinese, the glint of his glasses hiding his eyes. "Take a walk," he suggested, a hollow echo in his voice saying this was more than a cooling exercise he was saying.

He was going to need to "go for a walk" sometime in the future anyway. And by the way Crawford's eyes held a glassy look... Nagi followed his eyeline, and noted the tiny "New Mail" notification in the corner of his screen. He stood between Crawford and the computer, clicking on the notification. There was only one word in the message, no hints as to who it was sent to or why, no previous message lurking in the body to crack open his plot.

It just read "Tonight."

"This is important for your vision, isn't it," he asked softly.

"Just don't fall in love with this one."

Nagi snorted, sending back the same word. Certainly, it was difficult to keep your own agenda from a clairvoyant, especially when your agenda equaled his.

---

The more appropriate place to meet would be an abandoned warehouse. An alley, overflowing with trash and littered with hobos and the occasional fornicating couple. Hell, even a park bench in the dark of night would have been more appropriate.

But the cafe was far more comfortable and had much better coffee. Bombay took a slow sip, eyes half closed in bliss. Much, much better coffee. They actually sold bags of the beans they used, but for some reason, it never tasted as good at home. Maybe it was the water, the machine they used, or the fact it was obscene amounts of money spent on a simple cup of coffee. Movement flickered out of the corner of his eye and he instantly looked over, his fingers moving to caress the hidden dart in his clothing. Considering who it was he was going up against and the weakness left over from his broken leg, the dart wouldn't be much help unless he took him completely by surprise, but it put his mind at ease. At least Bombay had _a_ weapon on him.

The flicker resolved into a smiling waitress, her white blonde hair blending with the pristine frilly uniform. It was near the end of her shift, he judged by the tired way she smiled and the sluggish movements. But a very profitable one, as her smile was not faked. Not to mention she was still very prompt, so it was obvious she earned each and every one of her tips. If her features didn't give away her foreign roots, her halting Japanese certainly did, which probably had its own charm with the patrons. He smiled back at her, fingers moving just far enough away from his weapon. Something about her still rang a few alarms, still said she could be a very dangerous person. "Refill, sir?"

"Please," Bombay answered, answering her sincere politeness with a passible facsimile. Her smile grew as she took his cup, moving efficiently to refill the coffee. She paused on her way back, speaking quietly and rapidly to a redheaded woman that had just come on shift, smiling gratefully and nodding. Her shift was over, then, he mused as she placed his mug back in front of him. It was inconsequential, but he enjoyed putting together pieces of puzzles together like this.

The door opened with a soft tinkle and a cheery round of "Welcome!" from the staff. There was no answer, but Bombay didn't expect one to come from the stony faced Prodigy. Schwarz sat across from Weiß, barely even deigning to notice the redheaded waitress materializing next to the table. "Coffee, black," was the only thing he said to her, warily watching her moved fluidly to the counter, her hair swinging behind her like a tail. So he wasn't the only one that noticed the waitresses here were a little... deadly.

"I got your information," Bombay said softly, cautiously taking a sip. "It collaborated with what our source told us."

"What she is trying to do is similar to what we're trying to stop." The waitress came back with his cup, eyes darting between them and nostrils flaring as she inhaled, her eyes narrowing as her stance shifted. Their young, innocent looks didn't seem to fool her. Bombay bit back a quick chuckle at the thought of a female assassin team working as waitresses during the day. It seemed as implausible as anything else Kritiker came up as cover jobs. By the similarly amused look on Prodigy's face, it seemed he had the same thought. She rolled her eyes, going back to the counter to continue helping the blonde with counting her tips. Bombay had a quick pang of empathy for the girl, the frustration evident as some flaw in her head kept her from keeping a true running tally of what she made.

"I would have thought you would be interesting in helping," was all Bombay said.

Prodigy snorted, taking a sip of his own coffee. "We have no interest in seeing those ascend to that type of power."

"Ah." They sat there for a moment, watching each other, testing who would crack first. Eventually Bombay cleared his throat, setting his mug down. "Your information filled in cracks that our informant hadn't covered. More specifically, how one of the Lilin could ri-"

There was a sudden hostile presence next to them, the redheaded waitress hovering beside them with an angry look on her face. She opened her mouth when a shouted "Kari, I think I got it," interrupted her. She glared at the two boys, then went back to the counter. They watched her, Bombay working the dart free as the air crackled around Prodigy. The blonde finally smiled, hugged her fellow worker, and collected her tips. The redhead watched her leave with a fond, motherly expression, then came over to their table again.

"I wouldn't speak those type of words while in this location," she warned. "And this is a neutral zone. Don't."

Prodigy lifted his chin, but the air around him settled. Confused, Bombay slipped the dart back into place stealthily as she left. "She couldn't have heard us from over there," he muttered. "The other girl had to scream to be heard over here."

"None of the wait staff is human, Bombay."

Bombay blinked, looking at the other boy. "Pardon?"

He smirked, taking another sip of his coffee. "That's not quite true. The girl who left was the only human on staff." Prodigy rolled his eyes at the dumbfounded look on Bombay's face. "Did you think all places were run solely by humans?"

Bombay quickly smoothed his face back into a blank slate, reminding himself that he couldn't afford to show any weakness to the opposing team. "Back to business," he started, watching Prodigy's lips quirk. "The information about the L- about them," he amended as the redhead frowned. "You had in there information about how they could rise as well."

"What about it?"

"It explained a lot." Too much, actually. "It explained why, despite being a- one of them, our teammate was weaker than her and usually healed like a human."

Prodigy just started at him, his cup rattling on the table. Bombay spared a quick glance, disturbed at the fact it was done completely by telekinesis. "He's a lilu?" he hissed, ignoring the waitress's growl. "You mean to tell me that he's a fucking _incubus_?"

"Pay and leave." The redhead was suddenly by their table, drumming sharpened claws on her tray, causing shavings to fall onto the table. Bombay did so, not wanting to see what else she could with those claws. Prodigy started to pull out some yen, then looked at her, blandly.

"Your hair doesn't quite hide those ears."

She raised one hand, briefly displacing enough hair to show a velvety fox ear, then frowned. "Get out of here, Lilin Child."

Bombay raised an eyebrow at that, watching as Prodigy just dropped the yen and left. He bowed at the waitress. "I'm sorry for the commotion."

She nearly smiled at that. "Just leave, child. But thank you for your words."

He smiled at her, then followed Prodigy out. He hadn't gone far, and was watching the waitress through the glass. "Seems like everyone has an agenda," he said with a sneer, turning to Bombay. "Again, Balinese is an _incubus_?"

"You haven't figured that out and he's been with you for how long?"

There was a slight flush at that. "You fought alongside him and how long did it take you to figure that out?"

Bombay felt his cheeks heating up in return, and started to walk. "Fine."

Prodigy made a thoughtful noise as he walked along side the Weiß agent. "If he hadn't risen, I can see why my leader was so interested in him."

"I doubt it. The research said a mid level telepath could easily stop any of that, and by what you said, it sounds like they're a bit more than mid level."

Prodigy made an acquiescing motion with his head. "True. So it comes down to her and what the hell she's planning."

Bombay nodded. "Kritiker has a bounty hunter out for him," he warned. "One very well known for catching a lot of supernatural bounty. Zhe's supposed to be very good."

"As long as you're keeping your side of the bargain, he won't be found."

The bargain. Bombay looked at Prodigy, noting that he didn't say anything about him being safe or unharmed, considering his half of that bargain. "He _is_ alive, right?"

"For now." There was a disgruntled look on his face. Disgruntled and... Bombay laughed, recognizing that same look from the one Abyssinian had on his face for the last few weeks. Prodigy gave him a dirty look. "He needs lessons about how to talk about women. Tot had already been accosted by her."

"Ah." It didn't change his amusement any. "And Aya-chan?"

"Safe."

"Good. We'll be there."

"Good."

Bombay paused, then started to laugh slightly. The laugh only picked up as he looked over at his partner in crime, noting an actual amused look on the younger boy's face. "We work well together."

"That we do," Prodigy said thoughtfully. "Never would have thought that would be possible."

"If you need work after this, I could find something for you." Honestly, he had no idea why he made that offer, but it just seemed right. Prodigy was the only one he had any extended contact with, and one of the few still human members of Schwarz. Though it had come with a ransom, Prodigy had been the one to contact him, and him alone when their telepath had come home with Balinese. Prodigy had been the one to give more information about what the Coin Killer was, and the fact she had tried to manipulate Tot into telling her where Abyssinian's sister was. If he decided to break from Schwarz, well, Takatori Mamoru could find something within Kritiker for him.

The look on Prodigy's face was even beyond angry. Disgust rolled off the boy in thick enough waves that even Bombay felt it. Without a word, the psychic walked off. He passed by the occasional fellow pedestrian, the only look he gave them was one that said they were far, far beneath him. His shoulder slammed into one, and he looked up - _shit_, it was Abyssinian - but even that didn't slow his deliberate steps away. Abyssinian did the same, the two turning slightly to look at one another for a brief moment, before continuing forward to stop in front of Bombay. He just looked at him, then lifted his hand, rattling his keys. Bombay nodded, following him. The walk to his car and ride home was characteristically quiet. When they finally made it to their apartments, neither made a move out of the car.

"My sister?" Abyssinian finally said, still looking out the windshield. Damn, he had figured it out.

"Safe."

Abyssinian finally looked at him, studying him. "Do you trust him to truly keep his word? Schwarz-"

"I know, Aya-kun," he interrupted. "Look, I just... I know what I'm doing."

His face darkened. "Omi-"

"Abyssinian, please take this with the highest respects to your abilities, but fuck off," he interrupted wearily. "If you have a problem with how I run this team, you're free to leave." Bombay watched him, watched as the older man's face went through several stages of rage before smoothing into an icy calm, staring back out of the windshield. It had been a risk, but one put up against Abyssinian's love of his sister. "So, any news?"

It took him a moment to readjust his train of thought, but shortly- "She took her twenty-ninth victim tonight."

Bombay closed his eyes, fingers to his forehead. "What else?"

A file was thrust in front of him, filled with information about the victim. His job within an organization called Eszett, his abilities, time of death, his research project- "Someone should tell them about network security," Bombay murmured as he read over the information. "So that's where it'll be."

"My sister-"

"Is the first priority." Omi yawned, closing the folder. "We have a little time to prepare. Get some rest. I know I will be." Abyssinian nodded, tightly. "We'll get everyone back and stop her. We will."

There was a slight relaxation in Abyssinian's shoulders and Omi hid a grin.

---

Work _for_ him? What the fuck was Bombay thinking? Nagi threw the door open with far more force than was needed, ignoring Schuldig's laconic wave and Balinese's rather... interesting position. He wouldn't ever be in that sort of a position to have to ever accept handouts like that again. This alliance was a one time deal, one that was supposed to benefit their plan. Working for Weiß or Kritiker was just another choke chain that could be used against them. Never. _Never_.

He sat down at the computer, snorting at the information of the Lilin that scrolled past his eyes. There was movement out of the corner of his eye, and Nagi looked over to see Balinese enter yet another pose. "Creative, but impractical for a lawn ornament," he commented, watching the man waver slightly on one leg.

"You should have seen some of the earlier poses. We should go back to America," Schuldig said, a slight bit of longing in his voice. "They had actual lawns. They had lawns they put pride into making so _tacky_. Do you remember the job in Texas?"

Blood, mayhem, telepathic and telekinetic prodding into a bar fight that was a little too easy. Oh, Nagi remembered that one fondly. They were so uptight in that region of America, and had such easy access to guns. "Found anything about what she might be up to?"

Schuldig snorted. "Damned cat has figured things out. Whenever I start pulling on a thread about her, he starts thinking about girls or music. And if I have to hear about Kitade Nana's tits or Kinki Kids' music one more time, I don't care how important he is, we're reenacting Old Yeller."

A snort found its way out of Nagi's throat as he looked through his messages. Blah blah please be there on time with the girl, blah blah somebody please watch for telekinetic homeless as the trash "robots" were getting harder to keep under wraps, blah- _She took the bait_, Nagi thought at Schuldig, propping his head up on his fist.

_**Finally! Gott, could she be any thicker?**_

_She could be Balinese,_ he thought, drawing a vocal laugh from Schuldig.

"True. So, finally getting to the fun stuff?"

Nagi looked over at Balinese, eyes glazed as he stood on one leg, posed in a very tacky and sexual position. His lips curled, nodding.

"Finally."


End file.
